


Ginny Weasley and the Heir of Slytherin

by Leslie_Smart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Canon Compliant, Chamber of Secrets, Coping, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Growing Up, Introspection, POV Ginny Weasley, Tom Riddle's Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-15 17:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 76,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Smart/pseuds/Leslie_Smart
Summary: "Well, that's an interesting question, and quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on Fanfiction.net and FictionAlley in 2009-10

Ginny Weasley stepped into King's Cross station with her mother and four of her older brothers. Being a witch, as Ginny was, it felt weird to be among Muggles, as non-magical people were called. She, her family and many others were part of the secret world of wizards — a world that none of the Muggles surrounding them knew even existed. However, it was from King's Cross station that a scarlet steam engine carried young witches and wizards off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ginny was now ten years old — she had just turned ten, in fact — but it was at the age of eleven that you began attending Hogwarts. She had never so much as seen the castle, but she had heard quite a lot about it since she had six older brothers, two of which had already left Hogwarts. As the youngest and only girl in her family, Ginny was repeatedly told that she was "too young" to participate in whatever her brothers were doing. Now even Ron, the youngest after her, had turned eleven and this year he would be joining the ranks of Hogwarts students as well.

"Fred, George, don't stray!" Ginny's mother said strictly. "This place is packed with Muggles, of course — Ginny, take my hand." Knowing that arguing wouldn't have done her any good, Ginny reluctantly took her mother's hand.

She knew how the argument would have gone. First, she would have pointed out that they were surrounded by no one except Muggles. Her mother would then tell her that just because they couldn't use magic, Muggles could still harm her physically and that if she got lost she wouldn't be able to tell anyone who she was or where she was supposed to be. Ginny would then point out that no one would dare harm someone her age in public, that she could easily find the platform, having been there so many times, and that none of her brothers were ever forced to hold hands.

And then her mother would have dismissed it all with the words "Quiet, Ginny."

It was embarrassing how many people — even if they were all Muggles — could see her holding her mummy's hand like a little toddler. They must think she was a clingy little girl about seven or so. Well, she was ten and she was  _not_  clingy. She just had an overprotective mother determined to make sure she never grew up. It was what made her different from her brothers — she was "too young" and, no matter how old she got, it seemed she always would be.

"Now, what's the platform number?" Ginny's mother asked her sons to make sure they hadn't forgotten it, as though that were possible.

"Nine and three-quarters," Ginny chimed in, only to be immediately shushed. As Percy headed for the platform, Ginny found herself thinking angrily about how unfair the world was. This wasn't exactly something pleasant to think about and it soon made her feel a bit bitter.

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," Fred said, his face perfectly deadpan. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you  _tell_  I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking," said Fred, as Ginny knew he would, "I am Fred." And with that the twins headed right into the platform one after the other. Ginny grinned to herself — her mother had just fallen for the old twin-switch prank and not for the first time. It  _was_  a rather cruel joke, but Ginny wasn't happy with her mother at the moment, so she found it more amusing than she did normally.

It was while she was grinning at this that Ginny heard the voice of someone who would change her life forever…

"Excuse me."

Ginny, her mother and Ron turned to see a boy standing completely alone behind a trolley loaded with Hogwarts school supplies and a cage containing a snowy owl. The boy was a little taller than Ginny, but not by too much, and rather skinny. He had messy black hair, clothes that seemed to be too large for him and taped-up round glasses. Whoever he was, Ginny thought he looked rather pitiful and couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. Maybe he didn't have any family.

"Hello, dear," Ginny's mother said politely. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too," she added, pointing at Ron.

"Yes," the boy said awkwardly. "The thing is — the thing is, I don't know how to —" He was talking quietly, but Ginny tried to catch every word. He seemed so helpless and nervous…

"How to get onto the platform?" Ginny's mother asked and the boy nodded, apparently at a loss for words. "Not to worry, all you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," the boy said, sounding overwhelmed.

The words "good luck" were on the tip of Ginny's tongue, but somehow they didn't make it out of her mouth. The boy took off running towards the platform, clearly afraid he was going to crash into it, and then disappeared right through it, causing a strange wave of relief to wash over Ginny. She hadn't realized it until then, but she had been a little scared that the nervous boy wouldn't make it through.

"Go on, Ron, you're next," her mother said and with that Ron rushed right through the barrier after the boy.

"Mum, couldn't I just —" Ginny began, but with a "C'mon, Ginny" her mother grabbed her and pulled her through the barrier before she could finish.

She had been about to suggest that she could go through the barrier on her own for once. After all, the nervous black-haired boy couldn't have been much more than a year older than her, but  _he_  was allowed to go through on his own even though he was nervous and she wasn't. It wasn't fair — it was all because she was "too young." But maybe that would change next year when she started Hogwarts…

On the other side of the platform, Ginny found the familiar sight of the train she had seen every year for as long as she could remember — seen, but never boarded. She had always tried as hard as she could to get a good look at the interior through the windows, but she hardly bothered this year. After all, it would be only one more year until she would be allowed to board the train herself and she was pretty sure she had seen as much of the interior that way as was possible.

"Fred? George? Are you there?" her mother called out suddenly.

"Coming, Mum," a voice called back from inside the train. The twins ran back off the train towards their mother as she took out a handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose," she said.

As Ron tried to wriggle free, Ginny took advantage of the opportunity to wander away from the others, though not far enough to get her mother alarmed. By now, Ginny had a very good instinct about just how far that was. She looked around at all the boys and girls surrounding her. All were students of Hogwarts and even the youngest ones seemed really old somehow — unreachably old. She couldn't see any other younger siblings like herself, which was disappointing. If there had been some, she would have had someone to talk to about how it felt to always be the one left behind.

But that was how it had always been — Ginny was always the only one to be left out...

As she was thinking this, her ears caught a few words of what her family was saying, though she hadn't really been listening.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

" _Harry Potter!_ " That got Ginny's attention. She knew Harry Potter was a wizarding boy who, at the age of one, had somehow defeated a powerful Dark wizard so awful that almost everyone still refused to say his name. Harry Potter was famous all around the world for the lightning-shaped scar You-Know-Who had left him with and Ginny had been right in front of him and not even known it!

"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him," she pleaded, rushing back to the others, "Mum, oh, please…" Maybe _,_  she thought hopefully, the train would leave while she was still on it. She knew they would send her back home, of course, but at least she would get a glimpse of Hogwarts that way…

"You've already seen him, Ginny," her mother told her strictly, "and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him," Fred replied simply. "Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightening."

Knowing she probably wouldn't get another chance to see Harry Potter for at least a year, Ginny allowed her attention to wander, but still caught a few words of what her mother was saying ("…poor  _dear_  — no wonder he was alone… he was ever so polite…") before becoming lost in her thoughts again. She was now feeling very sorry for Harry Potter. What she found most extraordinary was how close he was to her age — she had never really thought about him that way before — as a normal boy.

She supposed few people actually had. Everyone he met would probably treat him like some big hero, but she felt certain that he was really just an insecure boy about her own age who had lost his parents when he was a baby and had as little idea as anyone else why You-Know-Who hadn't been able to kill him. He probably didn't even want all the fame and attention. He probably just wanted a friend. If she could go on the train, Ginny could be his friend…

The train whistle sounded and Ginny's mother called for her sons to hurry. The train was leaving and Ginny would be stuck at home with no one but her parents for the next nine months while her brothers would be at Hogwarts with Harry Potter — he was just a year older than her, but that one year made all the difference. As she saw her brothers wave goodbye, she looked through all the windows on the train, trying to spot him, but he didn't seem to be anywhere in sight.

By now, she felt sure that she was the only person — or at least one of only a few people — who truly felt sorry for Harry Potter and now she wouldn't even be able to see him for an entire year — it wasn't fair. Ginny found herself greedily hoping that Harry wouldn't make any friends at Hogwarts because then she could still be his first friend. That was a really cruel thing to hope for, she realized. She ought to be hoping that someone else would become his friend and experience all those wonderful moments of friendship with him that she really wanted and thought she deserved.

Suddenly and inexplicably, she started to cry. She had always tried to keep herself from getting too emotional in front of her family, since it would just reinforce in their minds that she was "too young", but there she was — standing in a public place filled with hundreds of people — and the tears wouldn't stop.

And, for some reason, she didn't want them to.

"Don't, Ginny," Fred told her reassuringly, "we'll send you loads of owls." Ginny clenched her jaw angrily — Fred, of course, had no idea why she was upset. Nobody ever understood why Ginny got upset and, if they didn't know, she wasn't going to tell them. They didn't deserve to know.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat," George added dryly.

" _George!_ "

"Only joking, Mum."

The train was leaving. Though she knew it would be quite impossible for her to keep up with it, Ginny ran after it for several paces, half-laughing and half-crying. She wished she could run alongside it all the way to Hogwarts and finally see, after all those years of watching it leave, where it went after leaving the platform. Eventually, it got too far ahead of her, as it inevitably would, and speeded away.

She came to a halt and watched the train bolt away from her, sadly waving after it. It was gone.

He was gone…


	2. Ginny's Fantasy

It had been almost a full year since Ginny Weasley had chased the Hogwarts Express as it carried Harry Potter away to Hogwarts. Her brothers were now home for the summer holidays and she was finally approaching her eleventh birthday. Looking out her lonely bedroom window, she saw that it was a beautiful August morning, but she still felt tired. She laid back down on her firm bed and closed her eyes. She could vaguely remember that she should be happy about something, but couldn't remember what that might be. She knew it wasn't her upcoming birthday — it was something else — something she had really wanted for a long time…

Incredibly, Ginny had had about the wildest luck in that her brother Ron had managed to become Harry Potter's best friend. Consequently, she had heard quite a lot about Harry as well as about a girl named Hermione, who seemed to be the third member of a kind of unofficial trio. Harry, Ron and Hermione had the distinction of managing to save some kind of powerful magical stone the previous year, but poor Harry had come face-to-face with You-Know-Who for a second time. Ron told it like it was a rousing adventure tale, but Ginny felt keenly aware that Harry might not have survived.

Ginny's family had invited Harry to stay at their house about a thousand times, but he strangely seemed to be ignoring their letters. Of course, given how awful Ron said the Muggles Harry lived with were, it was possible that he simply wasn't able to reply. This caused Ginny to remember what had happened that had made her feel so happy; Harry Potter  _was_  coming to her house —  _famous_  Harry Potter might, in only a few days time, be standing in the same room as her.

Ginny opened her eyes and sat up again, not feeling quite so tired anymore. The events of the previous night were coming back to her. After she had overhead her parents decide to pick Harry up if he didn't write back by Friday, she had become so excited that she hadn't been able to get to sleep for hours — which explained why she was so tired now. This excitement was coming back and she jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. The various greetings she had been dreaming up for when she met Harry began flowing through her mind — in only a few days, she might actually be able to use one…

" _Hi, I'm Ginny Weasley and you must be Harry Potter."_

" _I'm Ginny; you must have heard a lot about me from Ron. I've heard a lot about you, too."_

" _Hello, my name's Ginny. I've always wanted to meet you."_

" _You're Harry Potter? Wow! I'm Ginny. I never thought I'd have the privilege of meeting you."_

" _So you're Harry Potter? I never imagined I'd get to meet you personally."_

In the kitchen, to her utter astonishment, she found the very person she was thinking about had arrived two full days early. Harry James Potter himself was less than ten feet from her and she was standing before him, her hair still standing on end and clothed only in a plain nightdress. She involuntarily squealed, turned around and, the next thing she knew, she was running back upstairs, hoping he somehow hadn't seen her. Before she knew what she was doing, she had collapsed back onto her bed, breathing heavily.

This had to be a dream — it just  _had_  to be. It wasn't possible.

After lying on her bed for a few minutes, she sat up again. She felt faint and her chest felt very close to exploding, but she had gotten over the initial shock and could now force herself to think rationally. Harry Potter couldn't really be there — in her home — but she knew it was him — she had glimpsed him again at the end of the last school year. But maybe this was a just some kind of dream. Ginny pinched herself on the arm, but it hurt and a cold reality settled over her like frost.

It wasn't a dream.

She looked down at her bare feet. Somewhere beneath them, famous Harry Potter himself was talking amiably with her brothers Fred, George and Ron. As she looked back on what had just occurred, Ginny found herself feeling shaky and horrified. If he had seen her, which he probably had, what would famous Harry Potter think of her? She laid back on her bed and took a few breaths to compose herself. When she felt calmer, she closed her eyes, which, for some reason, were now full of tears.

She liked Harry — she  _really_  liked him. Based on how Ron had described him, he was very friendly and not at all full of himself as you would expect someone so famous to be. Even though he now had Ron and Hermione, Ginny felt he was still all alone in a sense and that she could change that if she could just be his friend. Obviously her problem was that she must not have created a very good first impression by running away at the very sight of him.

But she wanted to be more than just a friend — she wanted to be a very, very close friend. She supposed what she really wanted was to be his girlfriend. While Ginny liked the idea of having a boyfriend, wanting famous Harry Potter as her boyfriend was simply too embarrassingly impossible a goal to even consider. She did want to be close to Harry though and before it became clear that Hermione wasn't that kind of friend to Harry the thought of Hermione had made Ginny feel very angry. Was that jealousy?

In any case, Ginny did want to be a very close friend to Harry — she wanted to talk to him and be near him. She wanted to touch him and be touched back. Most people would probably be interested in feeling his scar, but Ginny wanted to hold hands with him — she wished she had gotten a better look at his hands. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted to put her arms around him and make him feel better after all he had been through and he had been through so much…

There was no doubt about it — she  _definitely_  wanted to be his girlfriend.

Was that really so bad? In romantic novels — Ginny spent a lot of time reading as she found real life rather dull — it seemed that everyone had exactly one person out in the world that they were "meant" for. Maybe she was the one person that Harry was "meant" to be with — the one person who truly understood him and only wanted to make him happy.

Of course, it was a bit silly for Ginny to compare her feelings about Harry with fictionalized romances. Besides, what was she going to do? Marry him? Ginny's heart beat harder. Marriage seemed awfully serious, but it would be the ultimate aim of all her feelings, wouldn't it? Ginny was smart enough to know that getting married to a person you hardly knew — at the age of eleven no less — would be extraordinarily stupid. For that matter, it probably wouldn't even be legal.

On the other hand, if she and Harry became close friends now they might get married when they were older. For now, she could be his girlfriend. Of course, first she would have to be his friend and to be his friend she would have to get to know him. Well, he was inside her house right now — what was she waiting for? Ginny stood up, head throbbing, and checked to make sure her door was locked before turning to look at herself in the mirror.

 _Is this me?_  a voice in her head asked as a pale girl with freckles, disheveled red hair and a pair of bright brown eyes stared back at her. Her petite build made her look younger than her years and gave her an unwanted look of delicacy. Why did she have to look so young? Maybe she wouldn't be so "too young" if she didn't look it. Ginny pushed all her angry thoughts about being "too young" aside and focused on how attractive she looked. Her appearance seemed suddenly important.

Well… her hair would have looked fine if it was combed properly. Her left arm was still bandaged up where she had hurt it tripping over a root in the garden, but she could live with that. Her eyes actually looked rather nice and her freckles were, more or less, acceptable. She turned away from the mirror quickly — she didn't like looking at herself — and walked over to sit on her bed again. Her appearance wasn't all that great, but, on the whole, she looked fine.

But was "fine" good enough?

Well, she could only make-do. Maybe she couldn't control her physical appearance, but she  _could_  control how she dressed. Ginny ran to her closet and eagerly dug though it, looking for something that would make her look more attractive and mature. Unfortunately, her family was fairly poor and almost all of her clothes were secondhand. Their home was the Burrow, which was basically a ramshackle house that would have collapsed long ago were it not held up by magic.

After trying on about twelve different outfits, Ginny's heart had sunken back down — everything she owned made her look small and dainty. Discouraged, Ginny let herself fall backwards against her bedroom door and slide down to the floor. She felt completely miserable. Holding back tears, she looked up at her bedroom window to see it was still a beautiful day outside. It was quite extraordinary that anyone could feel so horrible on such a nice day. Ginny sighed.

Maybe she didn't really have that much to be upset about. She had always been told that it was what was on the inside that counted. Besides, Harry probably wouldn't even give her appearance a second look — it would be foolish for her to spend so much time worrying about it. Ginny pushed herself back up, gave herself one final look in the mirror — the blouse and skirt she was wearing looked okay on her, but made her look like she was about six — and decided she looked as good as she ever would.

This wasn't much of a comfort, but she took a deep breath — maybe she could overcome the natural little-girl-ish-ness of her appearance by acting maturely — and turned to face her door. She unlocked it, pulled it wide open and took a deep breath. Okay, now she just had to go downstairs, find Harry and talk to him — it wouldn't be that hard. However, for some reason she remained standing there, trying to pluck up the courage to go down the stairs into her own house.

After standing there for a long time, she was driven out of her thoughts when she heard footsteps and looked up to see, with a sharp jolt of her heart, that ironically enough Harry Potter was standing before her once again. It was quite extraordinary how, although she had been reciting them in her head for months and months, she couldn't remember a single one of the greetings she had developed for when she would meet him. She stared at him, racking her brains desperately, before it hit her that she gawking at him like an idiot and she slammed the door shut.

"Ginny," she heard Ron say on the other side of the door, "you don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally —"

Ginny's heart was still racing. Famous Harry Potter had been right outside her, Ginevra Molly Weasley's, very bedroom — her private space where she dressed and slept. She allowed herself to collapse into a miserable heap on the floor. Why,  _why_  couldn't she have at  _least_  said "hi" when Harry was looking at her? She must have looked so stupid. She closed her eyes, which were rapidly filling with tears.

What was  _wrong_  with her?

* * *

As Ginny soon found out, Harry had been rescued by Ron, Fred and George, who had flown to Harry's house in a car their father had illegally enchanted to fly (though he had written a loophole into the law which made it technically legal). Ginny was horrified to learn that when her brothers found him, Harry was starving and had been barred in his room like an animal. Apparently, his Muggle relatives had learned, after some kind of magical accident she could only assume, that he wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school and tried to lock him up so he couldn't go back to Hogwarts.

After she found out about this, Ginny spent a long time sitting alone in her own bedroom, imagining what it would feel like to be barred in there. As everyone knew, Harry had to live with these unfriendly Muggles because his parents had been killed by You-Know-Who. Ginny's father had met a great deal of Muggles, but none of them seemed to be nasty like the ones Harry had to live with. This seemed extraordinarily unfair and just thinking about it made Ginny's heart ache. It was so sad — Harry's whole childhood had been ruined — but she never heard him complain about it.

Ginny's following scenes with Harry proved to be just as mortifying as the first two. Everything was normal for her when Harry wasn't around, but as soon as he appeared she usually blushed or knocked something over. Fred and George, of course, thought this was all hilarious and had taken to teasing Ginny about her "fancying" Harry. Having grown up with so many older brothers, Ginny was quite used to being teased and normally didn't mind it. But she thought this crossed the line. Her strange feelings about Harry felt very private and if she had her way no one else would even know about them.

She just didn't know how to make a good impression with someone so famous. What if she did something stupid? What would famous Harry Potter think of her? And what did he think of her now? As the little girl who hung around in the background? She hadn't even managed to speak a word in front of him — it was embarrassing to even think about, but no one seemed to care. Harry either didn't notice her or pretended not to, but she was actually pleased he ignored her. She was sure he was trying to prevent her from getting even more embarrassed and appreciated it.

Ginny didn't enjoy her birthday very much. While her mother got emotional about how fast her "baby girl" was growing up, Ginny escaped to the considerably more pleasant outdoors, where she went for a little walk and thought pensively about herself, the things she had done in her life (or the lack thereof) and how far she had come in the eleven years of her existence. Exactly eleven years ago, she had been a tiny newborn baby and now she was a young girl. It was hard for her to imagine that she had once been a baby though she knew she must have been.

When she got back inside, Ginny was chided for getting grass stains on her clothes. It was her birthday — the day they celebrated her existence — and her own mother seemed to care more about her clothes than about her. Ginny cried herself to sleep that night, but the very next day she received a letter that felt to her like a late birthday present. The address read:

Miss G. Weasley

The Third-Floor Bedroom

The Burrow

Ottery St. Catchpole

Ginny had never seen a letter addressed personally to her before. Apparently, her mother was also overcome with emotion, as she seemed close to tears. Ignoring her mother's comments about how fast she had apparently grown up — it had  _not_  been fast to Ginny — she eagerly ripped open the envelope, trying to not rip the letter itself in her zeal. However, her excitement was broken when Harry and Ron suddenly entered the room. She was so shocked that she knocked her porridge bowl onto the floor and had to dive under the table to recover it.

Wishing she could instead hide under the table and wait for the earth to swallow her up, she emerged with her face considerably redder than before.  _Why_  did Harry have to come in at that moment? She knew it wasn't his fault, but she still felt angry. This had been a moment she had waiting for all her life and it had been ruined. Of course, none of the big moments in her life seemed to go the way they were supposed to…

"Letters from school," Ginny's father explained to Harry and Ron. "Dumbledore already know you're here, Harry — doesn't miss a trick, that man."

Ginny knew Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts and widely considered to be the greatest wizard of the modern age. She had never met Dumbledore, of course, but she had seen pictures of him in books and on Chocolate Frog cards, so she knew he was an old man with long white hair and a beard. Ginny had been excited about seeing him, but this excitement had faded somewhat when she realized she would probably be just as embarrassed around him as she was around Harry. Not that she had any desire to be Dumbledore's girlfriend, but he  _was_  just about as famous.

As Ginny looked over her supply list, she noticed something quite odd — she had been asked to get the complete works of Gilderoy Lockhart, a wizard celebrity who Ginny's brothers suspected their mother fancied. Ginny didn't know much about Lockhart other than the fact that he was incredibly good-looking and had written books about his heroic exploits around the world.

"You've been told to get all of Lockhart's books, too!" Fred said, looking at Harry's list. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it's a witch."

Since Harry, Ron and Hermione's adventure of the previous year had culminated in the death of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, they were going to be getting a new one. Ginny was sort of happy that there would be at least one aspect of the school that she wouldn't know about beforehand as she had heard so much about it over the years.

"That lot won't come cheap," George said in disgust. "Lockhart's books are very expensive…"

"Well, we'll manage," his mother answered, sounding a bit anxious. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

Ginny would have given almost everything she owned to have stopped her mother from saying the last part of that — not that there was much she owned anyway...

"Oh, are you starting Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny, turning to  _look at her_. Ginny nodded as her face turned into a flaming beacon signaling her embarrassment to everyone. Why did her own face have to constantly work against her?  _Why?_

But she was getting a good look at Harry just the same. She had spent a long time wishing she could get a good look at him, but was afraid she would get embarrassed. Well, she was already mortified and it certainly couldn't get any  _worse_ , so she looked right into his face — especially his brilliant green eyes — until she realized it  _had_  gotten worse; she had managed to eloquently place her elbow in the butter dish.

All she wanted now was to know how to Apparate, so she could vanish and reappear somewhere very, very far away — like maybe Alaska.

"Errol!" Ron said suddenly, taking Errol, the Weasleys' owl, from Percy and removing the letter he was holding. " _Finally_ — he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys," he told Harry.

Ron proceeded to read Hermione's letter, which explained how she was going to visit Diagon Alley next Wednesday and suggested they meet her then. The letter sounded very much like the domineering girl Harry and Ron had described Hermione as. Ginny didn't find the possibility of meeting her a fraction as exciting as meeting Harry — after all, she seemed rather annoying by Ron's accounts. Of course, Ginny could hardly say she hadn't met Harry seeing how he was right in front of her…

"Well, that fits in nicely," Ginny's mother said as she begun to clear the table, "we can go and get all your things then, too. What're you all up to today?"

"We're going up to the paddock so we can play Quidditch with Harry," Fred explained.

Ginny's family owned a small paddock, which was hidden from the nearby Muggle village by trees, where her brothers flew around on their broomsticks and practiced Quidditch. They had never let Ginny join in, saying she was "too young," but little did they know it she had been breaking into their broom shed in the garden and playing on her own for years.

"Perce, ya wanna play?" George asked Percy. Ginny doubted it; her brother Percy was strait-laced and pompous, but mercifully she hadn't seen a lot of him recently as he was mysteriously spending a lot of time hiding in his room doing who-knows-what.

"No, I'm busy," Percy said stiffly, as he got up to go back upstairs.

Ginny couldn't believe that they considered letting  _Percy_ join them, but not her.  _Percy!_  She wasn't exactly all happy with her secret arrangement — it was especially hard when she had to listen to her brothers complimenting each other on their flying skills. For a long time now, she had been looking forward to the day when she would no longer be "too young" and she could finally show them she was a great flier too, but that day was setting itself up to be farther off than ever. Sitting silently at the table and feeling dejected, she watched her brothers and Harry walk away — she always had to watch people walk away to have fun without her.

"You look glum," Ginny's mother told her. "I know how you feel — you wish they could do something that you could join in."

This, of course, took for granted that Ginny somehow couldn't play Quidditch, but her brothers could. Everyone seemed to think she was innately helpless and innocent and she was sure it wasn't just from her being the youngest — especially considering Fred, George and Ron hadn't been "too young" when they were her age.

"Oh, boys will be boys," her mother added with a sigh. "If you want you can talk to me, you can."

"No," said Ginny, who felt quite hurt.  _Boys will be boys._  If her brothers could be themselves, why couldn't Ginny be herself instead of her mother's life-sized doll?

"C'mon, I'm your mother," she insisted kindly. "I'll understand."

 _Oh, no you won't_ , Ginny wanted to say, but she decided it wouldn't be a good idea to be so rude to her mother out loud.

"I just want to be alone right now," she muttered, as she got up to go outside.

Ginny immediately headed for the paddock, thinking of the time she had made that same trip nearly five years ago. Feeling very vindictive and sick of being "too young," six-year-old Ginny had snuck out to practice flying, thinking of it as a kind of "secret revenge." She had done fairly well on her first few attempts, but on her seventh try, overconfident after her successes, she had flown too high and too fast. After a sudden rush of adrenaline, she had found herself lying flat on the ground, unable to move. She had yelled and cried for help, but no one was near enough to hear her.

Back in the present, eleven-year-old Ginny reached the paddock and hid in the shrubbery so she could watch her brothers and Harry without being seen. Even without his top-of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick, Harry was such a great flier that it left no doubt in her mind he was a natural. She had heard quite a lot about Harry's flying skills and how he had gotten onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team when he saved a Remembrall from a boy named Draco Malfoy after a fifty foot dive.

Ginny shivered — there was an odd chilly quality in the air — and her thoughts drifted back to the day of her flying accident. She could remember it as though it had been yesterday; the hard, uncomfortable ground on her body, the soft unconcerned sounds of nature and seeing the same view of trees above her for what seemed like hours. Eventually, she had managed to force herself up and walked back to the Burrow, feeling as though every bone in her body had been broken. She came in the door crying and, when asked what had happened, she said that she fell. Her parents assumed that she meant she had tripped.

However, she hadn't given up. Only a week afterwards, she had come back to try flying again. She had always prided herself on not giving up after her accident. Though it was awhile before she felt safe going fast again, she could now safely fly at about twice the speed she had been flying at when she had had her accident. But no one knew — no one except her. They all thought she was just "too young" to handle something as dangerous as flying.

Her brothers and Harry had finished their flying game and were now heading back towards the broom shed to put their broomsticks away. As soon as they were gone, Ginny stepped out into the blazing sunlight of the paddock. Five years ago, she had stood right there feeling angry about how "too young" she was and little had changed since then. She was still "too young," she still felt angry about it and she still felt very, very lonely.


	3. The Prejudice of Lucius Malfoy

The next Wednesday started off as planned with Ginny, her family and Harry all gathered around the fireplace in preparation for their departure to Diagon Alley. Ginny had visited Diagon Alley with her family every year for as long as she could remember, but it was still one of her favorite places in the world. However, she was looking forward to visiting the alley now mainly because it would bring her one step closer to becoming a full-fledged Hogwarts student.

As her mother gingerly took a flowerpot full of Floo Powder off the mantelpiece and remarked that they were running low, Ginny started to worry a little. What would happen if they couldn't afford everything they needed? Ginny tried to force herself to not think about that.  _We'll come through in the end,_  she told herself, _We always do._

"Ah, well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!" Ginny's mother said as she offered the pot of Floo powder to Harry. To say Harry looked utterly bewildered would have been an understatement. Ginny really liked the expression on his face — she found it funny and kind of cute — cute in a way that made her want to throw her arms around him.

"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered pitifully.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder," Ron exclaimed. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."

"Never?" their mother asked in astonishment. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"I went on the Underground —" Harry began.

"Really?" Ginny's father asked eagerly. "Were there  _escapators_? How exactly —"

"Not  _now_ , Arthur," his wife interrupted. Ginny's father, who was fascinated by Muggles, had been hounding Harry with questions about what it was like living with them.

"Floo powder a lot quicker, dear," Ginny's mother told Harry, "but goodness me, if you've never used it before —"

"He'll be all right, Mum," Fred said confidently. "Harry, watch us first." He then promptly demonstrated how to take a handful of Floo powder, throw it into the fire causing it to turn green, step into the flames and say the name of your destination.

Watching Fred vanishing in a flash made Harry look nervous in a way Ginny found rather adorable. She was really enjoying watching him and fortunately for her his attention was so entirely focused on his Floo powder dilemma that she didn't have to worry about him noticing her. Being around to see Harry the first time he learned about Floo powder made Ginny feel a bit privileged — she wished she could have seen him the first time he learned he was a wizard.

"You must speak clearly, dear," Ginny's mother told Harry. "And be sure to get out at the right grate..."

"The right what?" asked Harry as George followed his twin into the fire.

"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know," Ginny's mother continued, "but as long as you've spoken clearly —"

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," her husband said as he took some Floo powder himself.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry responded darkly. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that —" Harry often joked about his unpleasant relatives like this, but it always made Ginny feel sad. If only he knew how sorry she felt for him…

"Well… all right… you go after Arthur," Ginny's mother eventually told Harry. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going —"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron added.

"And your eyes shut. The soot —"

"Don't fidget or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace —"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Ginny wanted to add something too — even a simple "good luck" would have sufficed — but she still couldn't make herself speak. It was a shame — Harry really looked like he needed luck. Maybe even a hug…

Harry took a deep breath and scattered Floo powder in the fire. After the flames turned emerald, he stepped in the fire.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he choked before disappearing.

Ginny's heart leapt. What if he hadn't said the alley's name clearly enough and he ended up in the wrong place? But then again how many places were there whose name was closer to "D-Dia-gon Alley" than Diagon Alley?

"Do you suppose he got sent to the wrong place?" Ginny's mother asked nervously.

"I think he said it well enough," Ginny answered, trying to sound confident this was true.

"I'd better go next just to make sure," Ginny's mother responded. She climbed into the fire and was wiped out of sight in the flames, leaving Percy, Ron and Ginny alone. Up until last year, Ginny had always gone through with her mother, but she had convinced her mother to let her go on her own last year after an argument in which her two least favorite words of the entire English language ("too young") had been used frequently.

"Okay," Percy said in his most authoritative voice, "Ginny goes next and then Ron."

Ginny obediently took some Floo powder, and stepped into the fire, which felt like a warm breeze.

"Diagon Alley!" she said, making  _very_  sure she spoke as clearly as possible. With Harry having possibly been sent to the wrong place, it was not a great time for Ginny to demonstrate she couldn't handle Floo powder.

The by now familiar sensation of spinning came over her. She was used to the roaring in her ears and the dizziness, but that did not make it particularly enjoyable. She tucked her elbows in and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on not falling through the wrong grate. She was not afraid of getting lost, but of losing the privilege to travel on her own. But if she panicked, she might fall through the wrong grate. Trying to remain calm and concentrate on not fidgeting, she couldn't allow herself to think about anything else. She desperately wanted it to stop, but she mustn't think about that, lest she lose her concentration. It was such a relief to hit the end of it all.

But then something grabbed her and squeezed her so tight she could scarcely breath! It took her a moment to realize it was her mother, giving her a very tight hug.

"I've been so worried!" she said as though Ginny had been missing for months and had just wandered casually in the door. "I was just worrying what would've happened if we'd lost you, too."

Ginny's mother let go of her and looked frantic. Ginny, on the other hand, didn't let herself panic even though she could tell something was wrong.

"So Harry didn't make it through then?" she asked. Her mother nodded.

"He could be  _anywhere_ ," she panicked, looking around as though expecting to see him standing in a corner waving merrily at them.

Strangely, Ginny didn't even need to try and stop herself from panicking — she simply wasn't worried at all. Why? She really liked Harry and she might never see him again. She was certain there was a real possibility of him dying, but it didn't seem to bother her at all. Perhaps it was because she had never worried about getting lost herself or because she thought Harry could handle it. Furthermore, there was some kind of brake in her mind that told her Harry couldn't die.

He just couldn't.

* * *

Diagon Alley was lined with the best wizarding shops in the world — shops that sold spell books, wands, broomsticks and other magical instruments. Ginny would have loved to go around and browse through them, but there was no possibility that she would be allowed to do that now. Molly Weasley was in "worry mode" as Ginny privately called it and she wasn't going to let Ginny out of her sight for a second. As they walked down the alley searching for Harry, Ginny knew she would have to stay close to her mother if she wanted to make her day halfway enjoyable. At the moment, she would have much rather been with her father and brothers, who were searching separately.

While her mother imagined the most horrible places that Harry might have ended up, Ginny followed her down the cobblestoned street, wishing she could be doing something more interesting and feeling a little guilty that she wasn't more worried about Harry. Why  _should_  she be worried anyway? Worrying wouldn't change anything, after all.

As the wizarding bank Gringotts came into view, Ginny saw the rest of her family waiting beside the beautiful marble building, but they weren't alone — Harry was with them and he was accompanied by two people. Though Ginny had never seen either of them before, she recognized both of them instantly. The man who was almost ten feet tall with a black beard and wild look about him could only be Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. After Ron had made her swear to never mention it, he had told her about how Hagrid had tried to raise a baby dragon in his cabin and christened him Norbert.

"However," Ron had said, "Hagrid's giant three-headed dog makes Norbert look like an angel. And do you know what he named that dog? —  _Fluffy!_ "

Ginny was surprised how quickly she recognized the girl with them as she looked very ordinary with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth. However, there was still no doubt in Ginny's mind that this girl was Hermione Granger. Ginny didn't know how she could tell it was her, but there an aura around the girl that made her seem — there was simply no other word for it — "Hermione-ish".

Ginny's mother ran to meet Harry and the others so fast, Ginny had to cling onto her arm to avoid falling behind. Now that she was closer, Ginny could see that Harry was covered in bruises and soot, but she had to admit that scruffiness was attractive in its own way, at least to her. She wanted to hug him — he looked so forlorn — but she couldn't have made herself smile at him. Instead, she ended up staring blankly at him.

Sometimes, she just hated herself.

As everyone went on talking, Ginny stood in silence as she always did whenever Harry was around. It turned out he had come out in Knockturn Alley, an adjoining alleyway dedicated to the Dark Arts which had always been forbidden to Ginny and her brothers. However, Ginny didn't need that ban to keep her out — when her father had had to go into Knockturn Alley for business once,  _he_  had been nervous!

"See yer at Hogwarts!" Hagrid said before he strode away.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they entered Gringotts. Ginny turned to listen. Maybe she didn't want to go into Knockturn Alley, but that didn't go for hearing a story from somebody who had. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" Ginny's father asked sharply.

"No, he was selling —" said Harry.

"So he's worried," Ginny's father answered with a satisfied smile. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."

Although she had never met any of them, Ginny knew the Malfoys were a family of Dark wizards. Lucius Malfoy worked at the Ministry of Magic and had served You-Know-Who as a Death Eater during his reign of terror. However, Mr. Malfoy turned back to the good side with You-Know-Who's defeat saying he'd been bewitched, but Ginny's father didn't believe that. Mr. Malfoy's son Draco was a student at Hogwarts, where he was mutual enemies with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

As they went through the silver door with the poem Ginny had always liked about "finding more than treasure" written on it, she tried not to think about the time last year when they had practically emptied their vault for Ron's books and robes. She walked closer to Harry. Maybe if she was close enough to him, she could "accidentally" brush her fingers against his hand. Then she suddenly remembered how she had wished she had gotten a better look at his hands and quickly gave them a glance. It wasn't enough — she wanted to take his hand and squeeze it tightly. Then they could skip towards the front desk together, joined by their hands.

By the time their Gringotts cart reached the underground Weasley vault, Ginny was imagining what their wedding might be like. As she climbed out of the cart, she tried to remain focused on this fantasy and not think about what would be left in there for her. However, her worst fears were confirmed when they found a small pile of silver Sickles, and one golden Galleon inside the vault. Ginny's mother felt around in the corners, before packing all of them into her bag. Not even Fred or George could think of anything to say to lessen the tension.

When they reached Harry's vault, they were greeted by a very different sight. Harry had more money then Ginny had ever seen put together (which, unfortunately, didn't say much.) Harry clearly felt very bad about this, but it couldn't be anything compared to how Ginny felt. She was dreading that they might not be able to buy enough supplies for her. Forget secondhand, she was worried they might not be able to afford some things at all. What would happen if she couldn't get all the supplies she needed? Would they still let her go to Hogwarts?

Ginny was not feeling very well when they exited Gringotts. While the others went their separate ways, Ginny was taken shopping by her mother. She had visited Diagon Alley before, but never had they shopped for her. The prospect was even worth spending the day with her overprotective mother. Since they had so little money, Ginny thought they probably should purchase the most important supplies first. The most important thing of all would be a wand, of course, and then probably books. Ginny's mother apparently didn't share this view, and led her to a secondhand robe shop.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," Ginny's mother said to the others. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!"

Ginny and her mother couldn't find robes that fit her exactly, so they settled on ones that were slightly too big as it would therefore be longer before she was too big for them. As they bought them, her mother commented on how fast she was growing. If Ginny was growing so fast, why did people still think of her as a helpless little girl? Why didn't her mother recognize how old she was now?

They could barely afford a telescope, but they got a wand from an old warlock who was selling secondhand wands for very low prices. There wasn't a lot of choice, but there were worries that they might not even work any more. Ginny got a wand that was almost in good quality. She didn't like it very much and thought it looked really ugly, but didn't mention this. She had been looking forward to owning a wand, and it didn't feel at all the way she hoped it would. She felt subdued and worthless, but said nothing.

As her mother probed a dingy shop to try and find the cheapest cauldron they sold, Ginny sat on a nearby bench, her arms and legs crossed. In fact, she felt rather cross. All the fun of shopping had been sucked out of it by their financial situation. It made a small part of Ginny want to just give up and go home to cry in her room. It wasn't that she especially wanted all the fanciest, newest stuff — she just wished she didn't to have to settle for the cheapest of the cheap.

"Hi, there," a small female voice said suddenly. Ginny looked up to see an Asian girl about her own age. She had braided hair and was wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a wide smile.

"Hi," Ginny replied in a tone which clearly conveyed how she felt. "Who are you?" she added when it became clear the smiling girl was not planning on going away.

"Well, my proper name's Kim Seong," the girl answered eagerly as though Ginny were dying to hear this, "but everyone calls me 'Kimmy'. My parents called me that when I was little and it stuck. What's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley," Ginny said shortly.

"I take it you're starting Hogwarts too," Kimmy said, to which Ginny nodded an affirmative. "Did you know you were a witch before you got the letter?"

"Only for eleven years," Ginny said brightly.

"I see you have a sense of humor," said Kimmy, smiling good-naturedly. Ginny noted that this Kimmy seemed to be quite a happy person — maybe even  _too_  happy.

"Yeah," Ginny replied when she was unable to think of anything witty to say.

"So, your family's magical then?" Kimmy asked her.

"Yeah," Ginny answered dully.

"Mine isn't," Kimmy told her brightly. "My parents are both Muggles."

"Right," Ginny said. "You know, you, uh, shouldn't go around just talking about that," she added. "There are loads of Dark wizards who hate Muggle-borns."

"You mean like that 'You-Know-Who' I keep hearing about?" Kimmy asked in a rather small voice.

"Yeah," Ginny said tonelessly, "like him."

After Kimmy Seong went on her way, Ginny and her mother headed to Flourish and Blotts. After arriving at the bookstore, Ginny looked up to see a banner stretched across the upper windows declaring that Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing copies of his autobiography  _Magical Me_  that afternoon. Based on the times listed, Lockhart would be arriving very shortly.

"With Gilderoy Lockhart there, there'll be loads of people trying to get autographed copies of his books," Ginny pointed out. "Maybe we should come back later when it'll be less crowded."

"No, no, we promised the others we'd met them here," her mother said quickly, looking just a little too enthusiastically at the banner. Maybe her brothers were right about their mother's interest in Lockhart, but Ginny wouldn't let herself believe it. Her mother was a married woman, after all.

With the purchase of all her regular schoolbooks, Ginny begun to feel confident that they were going to make it, but then she remembered they still had to buy five sets Lockhart's books. The amount of people in Flourish and Blotts increased considerably over the course of the next fifteen minutes or so. Ginny's mother insisted they get in line to see Gilderoy Lockhart and, when Ginny pointed out they wouldn't be able to afford an autographed copy of  _Magical Me_ , she said she simply wanted to see him.

"He's one of the most famous wizards in the world," her mother told her. "This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"Harry's even more famous and you didn't let me go on the train to see him last year," Ginny argued, but her mother wasn't listening. It wasn't that Ginny didn't like Lockhart or anything — it just seemed rather pointless to waste so much time to get a glimpse of a famous wizard.

Suddenly a thought hit Ginny that made her grin to herself. At the end of the last school year, Ginny's mother had chastised her for pointing at Harry when he was getting off the Hogwarts Express, telling her it was rude. She still felt a bit bitter about this as she was quite certain Harry had been within earshot. She now wished that her mother would point at Lockhart when he appeared, giving Ginny the opportunity to say, "Mum, it's rude to point." She would have just loved that.

The others arrived just as the man slowly came into view, seated behind a table and surrounded by pictures of himself. Gilderoy Lockhart looked exactly like he did on the covers of his books and all his pictures were winking at the crowd. He had wavy blond hair and eyes that perfectly matched his forget-me-not blue robes. Much to Ginny's disappointment her mother did not point at him, but she was still clearly enamored. Ginny couldn't believe it — her mother was  _married_  — married with children, including Ginny herself! How could her mother even think about another man that way while she had Ginny and her brothers to worry about?

But what was the worst that could happen? Ginny certainly couldn't see her mother getting a divorce and eloping with Gilderoy Lockhart. It still seemed very insensitive, though.

"Out of the way, there. This is for the  _Daily Prophet_ —" a harsh voice said suddenly. It was a stocky photographer Lockhart was posing for.

"Big deal," Ron said huffily. Gilderoy Lockhart heard Ron and looked up. Lockhart's eyes rather quickly settled on Harry.

"It  _can't_  be Harry Potter?"

Even Gilderoy Lockhart was excited about meeting Harry Potter. It made Ginny feel a bit lucky and important just be the sister of Harry Potter's best friend, but it also made her feel guilty that she still hadn't managed to even speak to him. What was it like for Harry? Did he feel lucky or important at all? Did he feel overwhelmed by all the attention? Based on the expression on Harry's face as Lockhart, smiling cheerfully, pulled him up front and begun shaking his hand, the latter seemed more than likely. In fact, Harry's face had turned red. He was  _embarrassed —_ just like  _she_ always was!

"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, apparently not noticing Harry wasn't enjoying this. "Together you and I are worth the front page." Lockhart didn't care that Harry wasn't enjoying himself — he just wanted to sell more copies of his books. But Harry didn't want fame or anything like that — he just wanted to be loved. Perhaps loved by someone like Ginny...

After Lockhart let go of Harry's hand, Harry tried to slip away, but Lockhart grasped him around the shoulders and pulled him to his side. Harry grew more annoyed by the second, and as his annoyance grew, so did Ginny's opinion of him. Meanwhile, her opinion of Lockhart was sinking at the same rate.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart said in a voice Ginny suddenly hated, "what an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I have been sitting on for some time! When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy a copy of my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge." The crowd, apparently completely oblivious to Harry's feelings, applauded.

"He had  _no idea_  that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book,  _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered, the very last thing Ginny felt like doing. This egomaniac was going to  _teach_  them? Ron seemed to feel much the way she did, but Hermione was staring at Lockhart as though all her dreams had just come true. Ginny resisted the temptation to snap her fingers in Hermione's face. In fact, all the women and girls she could see seemed to be infatuated with Lockhart! Was Ginny the only female immune to the so-called "charm" of that horrible git?

Harry, meanwhile, was presented with all of Lockhart's books. He escaped from the grasp of the real thing and, to Ginny's surprise, tipped the books into her own cauldron.

"You have these," he mumbled, "I'll buy my own —"

If Ginny could have possibly liked Harry any more than she already did, she certainly would have. He was so noble, so generous, so  _perfect_  — far more perfect than Gilderoy Lockhart would ever be. Harry had given his books to  _her_  even though she was nothing to him. Lockhart would never give things away unless it was to someone famous like Harry.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a pale boy with blond hair Ginny had never seen before. She knew instantly, however, who it must be.

" _Famous_  Harry Potter," Draco Malfoy sneered. "Can't even go into a  _bookshop_  without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ginny said without even thinking.

"Potter, you've got yourself a  _girlfriend_!" Malfoy responded as though Ginny weren't even there. It was only when these words caused her to blush that she suddenly realized she had just spoken in front of Harry for the first time.

Just as Ginny's father tried to lead them all outside, the most imposing person Ginny had ever seen came into view. Ginny also knew who he was since he had the same pale, pointed face as his son. He had two identical cold gray eyes and looked ready to kill. Ginny's father turned to him and addressed the devastating figure of Lucius Malfoy.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Lucius Malfoy. "All those extra raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?" Suddenly, he reached towards  _Ginny_  — her heart raced — and took one of the books from her cauldron.

"Obviously not," he said holding her ancient copy of  _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Ginny's father replied.

"Clearly," Lucius Malfoy said, looking in the direction of Hermione's Muggle parents, whom Ginny's father had just been talking to. Ginny knew Lucius Malfoy was the type of person she had warned Kimmy Seong about — those wizards who despised Muggles and didn't think Muggle-borns like Hermione were much better.

"The company you keep, Weasley," he continued silkily, "and I thought your family could sink no lower —"

THUD!

Ginny's father had attacked Lucius Malfoy and knocked him backwards into a bookshelf. Her family was shouting at her father, but Ginny herself didn't say anything — she was preoccupied with feeling small and insignificant on the sidelines of the brawl between two fully grown men. She felt horribly defenseless and unimportant. All she wanted now was to somehow get her Transfiguration book back — it  _was_  her book, after all — and go home.

Books cascaded down all over the crowd as they moved backwards and more shelves got knocked over. Ginny felt as though the whole world was falling apart around her.

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up —"

Ginny was suddenly very pleased that Hagrid was so large. In an instant he pulled Ginny and Malfoy's fathers apart, both of whom had been hurt from the battle. Lucius Malfoy thrust Ginny's book at her.

"Here, girl — take your book — it's the best your father can give you —" he said furiously.

Ginny didn't much like the idea of being so near someone like Lucius Malfoy when he looked that angry — she half-believed he could kill her with just the malicious look in his eyes. As she took her book with shaking hands, she was careful to keep an eye on where his hands were in case they snaked themselves around her neck. After pulling himself free of Hagrid's grip, Lucius Malfoy beckoned his son out of the shop with him. As soon as they were gone, Ginny felt it was safe to relax her heightened tension and to breathe normally again.

Ginny sighed mentally. All in all, she wasn't having a very good day, but at least they managed to afford all her supplies. And she had gotten her book back.


	4. The Beguiling Diary

The first thing Ginny did when she got home was hide in her bedroom. Now she could freely cry, but she didn't feel much like crying anymore, which was a bit of a shame somehow. Feeling as though she had been gone for days rather than hours, she sat down on her bed, her legs dangling over the edge, and decided to think to herself as she had no one to talk to — no friends. She sighed sadly and turned to look at her pallid reflection in the mirror.

_Hello, Self_ , she thought gloomily.  _How do you feel today?_

Feeling hurt suddenly, Ginny laid on her back and stared at the low ceiling — thinking. She liked herself. Obviously, she had some faults, but overall she thought she was a good person. When she looked in the mirror, what she liked the least about her appearance was her clothing and second-least her freckles. Why did her family have to be so poor? Why did she have to be the youngest? She didn't mind being the only girl as much as she minded being the youngest. If there were just  _one_  Weasley younger than her, her life would be so much easier.

Ginny sat up again, feeling a little better. She did like being a girl. After all, it made her feel a little unique seeing how her mother was the only other female in the family and she was a full-grown woman, which (in Ginny's mind at least) was very different from being a girl. As for any females Ginny's age, there was only a neighbor girl named Luna Lovegood, who seemed very odd and distant. Ginny didn't know her very well. Sometimes being the only girl in the family made Ginny feel special, but other times it made her feel lonely. Now was one of the lonely times.

Ginny so wanted someone to talk to, but nobody she knew would understand how she felt right now. Strangely, she felt that Harry  _would_  understand. Maybe it had something do with how he had been raised. If  _only_  she could make herself talk to him. He must think she was the most insecure little girl ever. But maybe when she was sorted into Gryffindor House which was known for bravery, he would think she was at least a little brave… unless she didn't make Gryffindor. After all, just because every Weasley had been in Gryffindor forever didn't  _guarantee_  she would. What if she ended her family's centuries-long line of Gryffindors? What would her parents say? And perhaps more painfully, what would her brothers say? Ginny couldn't believe the idea that she might not end up in Gryffindor didn't occur to her until that moment, but it didn't.

Feeling depressed and a bit scared, Ginny decided to take a look at her "new" supplies. She felt really poor — was there  _anything_  she owned that hadn't once belonged to someone else? Did all her possessions have to go through someone else before she could have them — as though she were less of a person than they were? The clothes she was wearing were starting to feel as thought they were tattered rags — it made her feel worthless. She knew she shouldn't be feeling this way, but she just couldn't help herself. It wasn't fair.

In a fit of rage, Ginny knocked her cauldron over, causing her books and supplies to spill out onto the floor. They were so old, what did it matter if they got damaged? As she scanned the pile of supplies, she noticed a black object sticking out of a book her mother had bought. Naturally, she picked it up and saw it was a little diary. It was very old, fifty years based on the date, and had the name "T. M. Riddle" written on it. Had her mother bought it as a surprise gift for her?

Ginny had always wanted to share her feelings with someone who would understand and with this diary she could find out about its creator's innermost thoughts, which would somehow almost be the same thing. She gently opened the diary to the first page, which was blank. After flipping through the whole book, she found it had never been written in. She was crushed and sat thinking for a moment.

Well, her mother certainly wouldn't give her a blank diary with someone else's name on it without an explanation. Ginny ought to give this diary to her father so he could to try and get it back to its rightful owner, but she wasn't about to let a free diary go to waste. She wanted to do something with it. Besides, she didn't know who it belonged anyway — well, obviously it belonged to someone called "T. M. Riddle," but she had no idea who that might be.

Maybe she could just keep the diary for herself. It was worth a try, wasn't it? The diary did have a name on, but it wasn't as though she would be showing it to anyone. But if she kept it, it would be stealing, wouldn't it? Ginny had never  _really_  stolen anything in her life before and preferred to keep it that way. But, she reasoned, she hadn't actually taken the diary herself; someone probably just left it in one of her books, forgot about it and most likely would never notice it was missing. Besides, the fact that the diary was blank proved nobody had been using it and more to the point she found it in a book she rightfully owned, so logically it was hers.

Heart pounding and still a little unsure whether she should be doing this, Ginny sat down at her desk and flipped back to the first page of the diary. She wrote, "Dear Diary, My name is Ginny Weasley. I'm the daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley. I have six brothers, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ron." She paused to think about what to write next and to admire her work, but as soon as she lifted her quill from the page the words began to fade away.

_Typical_ , she thought darkly. Her heart sank as the words became invisible. She was crestfallen, but a little relieved since she hadn't been sure whether or not she should have been writing in the diary. However, the ink oozed out again, but formed words she hadn't written.

" _Hello, Ginny Weasley. My name is Tom Riddle."_

These words also faded away, but not before Ginny had time to read them. She wasn't sure what to make of this and felt a little panicked. But her panic was eclipsed by a sudden realization — there was someone living inside this diary whom she could communicate with. She could tell this Tom Riddle anything and she would never have to worry about him mentioning it to anyone. So what if he wasn't friendly? — he couldn't do anything to her. What was the worst that could happen? Someone who didn't exist knowing a few things about her? What did she have to lose?

So what should she write next? She wanted to make sure he was trustworthy, but she also wanted some helpful advice or, at the very least, sympathy. Eventually, she decided to tell him a little more about herself first. At first she was planing to mention all the problems she had in her life, but then decided she wouldn't be telling him about her family, her possessions or about anything except just herself — as a person.

"Dear Tom Riddle," she wrote, hoping she had remembered his name correctly, "I'm eleven years old and am starting Hogwarts on September the first. I have fair skin, red hair, brown eyes and freckles. My birthday is the eleventh of August and I'm pretty good at flying. I'm the youngest and only girl in my family and my full name is Ginevra Molly Weasley. You can call me 'Ginny' though."

As the words faded away, Ginny couldn't help but grin as she wondered what Tom Riddle would say in response. Would he tell her about himself perhaps?

" _You sound like a nice person, Ginny. I'm looking forward to getting to know you."_

Ginny smiled to herself. Tom Riddle was looking forward to getting to know  _her_  — someone was actually interested in knowing about  _her_  life — no, not in her life, just in  _her_. This was exactly the type of response she had been hoping for and it made her even more eager to share her feeling with this Tom Riddle. What should say next? She wanted to tell him something more about her, but her mind was blank. It was amazing how she thought she would have a million things to say to someone who would listen, but now that she had such a person she couldn't think of one. Well… maybe one.

"Dear Tom," she wrote, figuring she could call him by his first name now, "Thanks for saying that, I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble with one of my brother's friends. He's nice and everything, but he's none other than Harry Potter! I've been too nervous to even speak in front of him and I don't think he'll ever like me. What should I do? Could you please help?"

As the words faded away, Ginny wondered what Tom Riddle would make of this. Harry Potter was so famous — would he think she was lying to make herself sound more interesting?

" _I'm sorry, Ginny, but I am not aware of who this Harry Potter is. Please tell me."_

Ginny at first wondered how someone could  _not_  know who Harry Potter was, but it then occurred to her that if Tom Riddle lived fifty years ago, he wouldn't know Harry's story. Therefore, she caught him up on the last fifty years, but found he didn't know who You-Know-Who was either. Ginny, like most everyone else, never said the name, but she eventually wrote "VOLDEMORT" in all capital letters, hoping she'd spelled it right. Tom Riddle seemed to be satisfied with that.

" _I'm very sorry to hear that, but there is nothing I can do except encourage you to be more assertive. I know you want someone to be close to. I used to feel the same way when I was your age. I came to Hogwarts from an orphanage and I had no friends."_

Ginny could hardly contain the emotions she was feeling — Tom Riddle knew how she felt without her even telling him! She instantly wanted to tell Tom Riddle all about herself. There was so much about her to tell — where should she start? Looking around at all her secondhand supplies, it wasn't too hard to think of something.

"My family's pretty poor," she wrote so quickly the words were barely legible. "Mum and Dad are good parents and they try as hard as they can, but I'm going to have to go to school with secondhand books and robes, because they can't afford any newer ones. I know I should be happy for what I have, but sometimes I feel really bad about it."

Ginny knew she was downplaying her feelings considerably, but on the other hand she hadn't told anyone about these feelings before — downplayed or not. Besides, why did it matter  _how_  bad she felt. She knew she shouldn't feel that way and that more or less made up for it, didn't it?

" _I'm sorry to hear that, but you can't have been worse off than I was. When I was at Hogwarts, an older student named Bormann and his gang would tease me all the time, because almost everything I owned was secondhand and because I had no family. However, I became a prefect whereas Bormann was expelled in his seventh year."_

Ginny felt a bit sorry for Tom Riddle, who was starting to remind her of both herself and Harry, but also heartened to know that in the end Tom Riddle had been rewarded whereas Bormann was expelled. It made her feel that if she waited long enough and was good, people like Draco Malfoy would get what they deserved and Ginny would get what she deserved. All she would have to do was be patient and not expect anything to come too easily.

Ginny looked down at the diary and saw four words had appeared on the page since she had stopped looked at it — which had been about half a minute ago.

" _Is something wrong, Ginny?"_

Alarms went off in Ginny's head as the words faded. She swallowed her feelings whole like a lemon and picked up her quill. She had already decided what she would say.

"No, I was just thinking about what you said," she wrote. "Thanks." (Why did she write that?)

"Anyway, my brothers tease me a lot. I know they don't mean to hurt me and it's all in good fun, but I really don't like it when they make fun of my feelings about Harry. They won't let me play Quidditch with them either, because they say I'm too young. I'm older than Fred and George were when they first started playing Quidditch, but that's not good enough for them."

Ginny would have written more, but her hand hurt so she decided to tell Tom the rest after he wrote back. She tried to somehow rest her hand quickly so it would be ready for more writing in such a short time.

" _That's very unfortunate. Maybe you should take matters into your own hands.."_

"That's exactly what I did," Ginny replied. "I couldn't stand not being allowed to play Quidditch with them, so I did it by myself. They don't have a clue, of course. It's hard keeping it a secret though. I just wish I had someone to talk to about it."

" _You can talk to me about it. You can tell me about anything."_

Ginny smiled, feeling a great feeling of warmth fill up inside her. It occurred to her that this was probably the first time since Harry's arrival at the Burrow she hadn't felt at all miserable. Eager to get more of her feelings out, she continued to scribble in the diary.

"I also have trouble with Mum," she wrote. "She's a good mother and all, but she treats like a baby. If it weren't for the letter inviting me to Hogwarts, she probably would never have realized I'm not three years old anymore. I can think. I can take care of myself. I don't need her helping me with everything. Sometimes I feel like I'll never grow up."

" _You will grow up eventually; everyone does. All you need is to remain patient. I expect there will come a time when your mother and brothers will regret treating you the way they do. At least your mother is still alive — mine died shortly after I was born."_

Ginny had forgotten Tom was an orphan. Had she hurt his feelings?

"I'm sorry," she wrote, "I —"

It was here that she was interrupted. She felt her heart leap out of her body as someone knocked on her door.

"Ginny, what are you doing?" asked Percy. "Why have you locked your door?"

"Nothing," Ginny lied. She felt guilty. Why? She hadn't done anything wrong.

"Mum was just wondering what happened to you," he responded.

"Tell her I'm alive," Ginny yelled back.

"She's fine," Ginny heard Percy yell to their mother. Ginny looked back at the diary and began wondering why it made her feel guilty. She knew she wouldn't be telling her parents about Tom Riddle, but why? Was it wrong to write to him? Well… she really wanted Tom's existence to be her own secret — if her parents knew about him, it would be extremely embarrassing. Besides, she had a right to privacy.

" _Ginny, are you all right?"_

Tom Riddle must have been worried since she stopped writing in mid-sentence, so she wrote "Yes, I just got interrupted. Sorry."

She had forgotten what she was writing about and decided she had had enough of Tom Riddle for the day.

"Goodbye Tom," she wrote. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well."  _Sleep well?_  That was a strange thing to write. Perhaps she just felt Tom Riddle would sleep when she wasn't writing to him — inside his little diary. Would it be cozy in there?

" _I hope to hear from you again, Ginny."_

Ginny felt relieved he didn't think her "sleep well" line was stupid or, if he did, he was at least polite. She closed the diary, feeling satisfied but oddly scared. A burden that she had been carrying for years had been lightened, but somehow it made her feel shaky. Something inside her was telling her that something was very, very wrong — wronger than she could imagine.

She ignored it.

* * *

True to her prior conviction, Ginny didn't tell anyone about the diary. It was her business and it was private — her parents and brothers would just poke around and try to read it. Therefore, she kept the diary hidden and only wrote in it only when no one was around her. It was especially annoying when her mother came into her room and stayed there for hours while Ginny had been in the middle of writing something to Tom. Of course, this diary wasn't exactly normal, but Ginny wasn't about to take the chance that they would figure out how it worked.

Ginny loved Tom Riddle and usually managed to write to him multiple times a day. Unlike everyone else in her life, he never spoke down to her, even though she had learned he was years older than she was. She wanted to tell Tom what she thought of him, but couldn't express it well enough. She sometimes held the diary tightly in her arms, figuring it would be the closest she could ever come to hugging him. Doing this when she felt really bad seemed to be strangely therapeutic.

The last day before Ginny would go to Hogwarts seemed to last forever. She tried writing to Tom, but she simply felt too excited to sit down and write. After spending ages staring at a blank page, Ginny wandered around outside for a bit, but everything seemed boring. She tried to enjoy the luxurious meal her mother cooked for dinner, but it wasn't easy when she remembered that the sooner she finished and went to bed, the sooner it would be September the first. She felt slightly guilty about this since Harry seemed to enjoy being at the Burrow so much and she was wishing for his stay to end.

But she couldn't help it. Ginny was so excited and was looking forward to the next day so much she couldn't sleep and spent most of the night restlessly pacing around. When she did eventually fall asleep, she hadn't even been intending to — she was just laying on her bed resting and eagerly thinking about what the next day would be like. It was hard to imagine that at this time tomorrow she would be in a dormitory at Hogwarts — hundreds of miles away.

She awoke a few hours later, still feeling tired, from some strange, unsettling dreams. She quickly forgot about them as the day progressed. It was like every September the first she had experienced — very busy and chaotic. People running around making sure they had everything they needed and that they were ready to go. The difference was that Ginny was a part of it this time, but somehow it all made her feel as though she had forgotten to do something.

Not only had her father made it so their old car could to fly, he'd enchanted it so it could expand to fit all of them and their luggage. Naturally, he had neglected to tell his wife and Percy this. He hadn't intended to tell Ginny either, but when she caught him tinkering with the car and threatened to get her mother, he told her what he was doing, making her swear not to mention it.

When Ginny's mother saw all her sons sitting comfortably in the back she said, "Muggles  _do_  know more than we give them credit for, don't they? I mean, you'd never know it was the roomy from the outside, would you?" As Ginny climbed into the front seat with her mother, she still couldn't shake the feeling that she had forgotten something — something very important.

As they drove away, Ginny felt panicked. She was sure she had forgotten something now and this was the last time chance she would have to get it. Apparently, she wasn't the only one — George forgot his box of Filibuster fireworks. She considered getting out with him, so she could go back to make doubly sure she hadn't forgotten anything, but told herself it was probably just her nerves. After all, this was just about the biggest day of her entire life.

They left again, and her panic was back. Before she had any time to think about what she might have forgotten, they stopped again so Fred could go back and get his broomstick. Soon they were moving yet again and Ginny was trying to tell herself that her parents would make sure she had everything she needed with her — they wouldn't let her go to school unprepared.

Unless she had forgotten something they didn't know about…

It was Tom Riddle's diary! How could she have been so stupid as to leave it behind? Now they were almost to the highway and there was nothing she could do about it.


	5. Lost Opportunities

_Ginny, you're a complete idiot!_  she thought, her face in her hands. Ginny tried not to panic, but it wasn't easy; the way she saw it, she'd never been in a worse fix. Although she certainly didn't want to go a whole year without Tom, there was a more pressing issue at hand. She couldn't get the diary back without making her parents aware of it, but if she left it behind her parents would undoubtedly find it during her absence and most likely figure out how it worked. Then she would have to explain it to them.

There was nothing else for it.

"I'VE FORGOTTEN MY DIARY!" she shrieked, causing her father to bring the car to a jarring halt.

Ginny climbed out of the car and ran towards the Burrow before anyone could protest. She was already regretting yelling, but all her tension had just burst. She raced upstairs into her room and found Tom Riddle's diary where she kept it hidden in a drawer under some of her ugliest clothes. She squeezed the diary in her arms and cried a little. As she listened to her heart throb, she felt she was cradling more than just a diary in her arms — it was now a part of her very soul. She wanted to tell Tom she was very sorry she'd forgotten him, but she didn't have the time. They were already late.

As she dashed back to the car, she kept thinking about how very close she had been to leaving the diary behind. She couldn't stop imaging what would've happened if she hadn't figured out what she had forgotten in time. But her worries were not over. Surely her parents would remember that they hadn't bought her a diary and her brothers would probably want to sneak a look at it now. She reminded herself that at Hogwarts the diary would be in the girls' dormitory where her brothers couldn't get at it. For once, she was glad she didn't have any sisters.

As she climbed into the car, Ginny kept the name and date on the diary hidden with her arm. She quickly stuffed the diary out of sight, hoping everyone would forget about it. Although her wish seemed to be fulfilled, she couldn't stop worrying that at any moment her mother or father was going to request a look at the diary. What would she do then?

And what about after she returned next summer? Then her brothers could sneak into her room to peek at the diary all they wished. Ginny amused herself for a moment by imagining their faces when they found the diary was blank. Of course, they might figure out how to work it and she wasn't going to take that chance. Maybe they would forget about the diary by then, but what if they didn't? That was almost a year away, Ginny reminded herself; she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

They arrived at King's Cross station fifteen minutes before the train was set to leave. Although she highly doubted it, Ginny couldn't help but worry that she wouldn't be allowed to go to Hogwarts at all if she didn't board the train on time. Percy went through the barrier first, followed by their father and the twins. Ginny was quite anxious as she waited for her turn, but it turned out they still weren't going to let her go through on her own.

"I'll take Ginny and you two come right after us," Ginny's mother said to Harry and Ron. Her mother practically pulled her through, but Ginny didn't see any point in protesting. After all, she would be gone in about a minute anyway. Then she wouldn't have to worry about her mother hovering over her for a whole year… but there would still be Percy.

Fred and George were climbing onto the train, but Percy was standing still, trying to look important. Somehow, he had made his prefect badge even more noticeable than normal. Ginny's mother gave her the biggest, longest hug she had ever given her and that was saying something. Her mother didn't seem to want to let go and she only did so with assistance from her husband.

When her mother did let go, Ginny saw her eyes were full of tears. Suddenly, her mother began to cry. Ginny had never seen her mother actually cry before and found the sight rather alarming. Her mother had gotten tears in her eyes and fretted all the time, but she had never really,  _really_  cried, at least not around Ginny. Seeing her mother cry made Ginny feel a little scared — sort of like something in her stomach had been soaked up — but she just gave her parents a quick smile before turning to run to the train. She could hear her mother apologizing for going to pieces, but chose not to listen. After blowing her nose with a handkerchief, her mother told Percy to look after Ginny. Ginny could tell Percy wasn't pleased with this duty, but he nodded like any obedient minion and ran to "help" Ginny get onto the train though she had been managing fine on her own. It was going to be a long year.

Ginny didn't have time to find an empty compartment, so she ran into the nearest one, which contained a skinny boy with light brown hair, and got up next to the window. The train was quickly pulling out of the station and her mother, still crying, was gazing at it like a bird watching the last of her young fly away from the nest. Ginny could hardly believe this was really happening. She was finally on the other side — on the train rather than on the platform watching it leave. After so many years of waiting, it was finally happening — she was finally going to Hogwarts.

"Uh, hi," a voice said rather shyly. Ginny turned and saw it was the boy, still sitting quietly.

"Hi," Ginny echoed. Without saying anything more, she rushed out of the compartment. She knew this was rather rude, but she was really excited and wanted to find an empty compartment where she could write to Tom about how she was feeling. She soon found one, but just as she sat down and was on the point of taking out his diary, the compartment door, barely shut, slid open again.

It was Hermione Granger, Harry and Ron's female friend. Did Hermione have to interrupt her at  _that_  moment? Couldn't she have waited just a few minutes at least?

"Are you all right?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, why?" Ginny asked. She didn't have the slightest idea what was going on.

"Well, you looked upset," Hermione explained. Ginny realized her disappointment must have shown in her face and quickly smiled, pushing Tom's diary back into her bag. It would most likely be a long time before she could use it.

"What d'you have there?" Hermione asked, sounding suddenly anxious. Maybe Hermione was excited by the mere sight of a book — Ron had always said she was very bookish.

"Nothing," Ginny lied quickly.

"Nothing?" Hermione asked, sounding quite nervous. "C'mon, tell me — what is it?" Ginny deiced to settle for a half-truth.

"It's just my diary," she explained.

"Oh," Hermione said, her agitation suddenly fading, "I see." She sat down and looked at Ginny without saying anything. Her eyes were brown, but a darker brown than Ginny's eyes.

"Well," Hermione said casually, "I didn't recognize that book you had, so I thought I must have forgotten to purchase it. I mean, if I forget to buy one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books —" Her face became tinted pink, but she smiled anyway.

"Isn't Professor Lockhart  _amazing_?" she asked, sounding completely awed.

"Well…" Ginny said slowly, "considering how little I've seen of him…"

"But you've read his books, haven't you?" Hermione asked briskly. "I mean, uh, wait. What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," Ginny said shortly. "You didn't tell me yours either." Hermione blushed.

"I'm — I'm so sorry — I-I didn't mean to be so rude," she said, becoming very upset, "I'm —"

"Hermione Granger," Ginny finished. Hermione looked at her. "Ron's told me about you," Ginny explained.

"That's right," Hermione said, recovering herself and talking very fast, "you're Ron's little sister, so your last name must be Weasley — what's your first name?"

"Ginny," she said tersely.

"Ginny," Hermione repeated. "Is that short for Virginia?"

"Ginevra," Ginny corrected. Hermione didn't say anything. "I assume Hermione isn't short for anything," Ginny said eventually, breaking the silence.

"No, it isn't," Hermione admitted. "Where's your brother and Harry."

"Which one?" Ginny asked darkly, though she knew Hermione must be referring to Ron.

"Oh, that's right," said Hermione, "Fred, George and Percy'll be your brothers too." Ginny nodded. However, an uneasy feeling was creeping into her. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't seen Harry and Ron pass through the barrier. What if they weren't on the train? She shook her head. Harry and Ron weren't stupid — they had probably boarded the train while Ginny's mother had been hugging her.

Hermione stood up.

"So, have you seen them?" she asked, a troubled edge on her voice, which seemed to be getting more high-pitched.

"No," Ginny said shortly. Hermione sighed.

"I do hope they haven't done anything stupid," she said to herself. Just as Ginny was getting her hopes up that Hermione would leave to look for Harry and Ron, Fred and George passed by their compartment.

"Fred, George," Hermione said to them in a somewhat panicked voice, "have you seen Harry and Ron?"

"Why yes, I believe we have," George answered casually. "Several times, in fact." Ginny grinned in spite of herself, but Hermione was not amused.

"This is  _serious_ ," she said, sounding deeply annoyed. "Aren't you afraid something might have happened to them."

"All  _right_ ," Fred said, feigning exasperation, "we haven't seen them  _recently_. Just be sure you don't fall for a particular one of them — Gin'll be jealous; she's got a crush on ol' Harry."

Ginny, her face burning, felt anger devour her.  _Why_  didn't Fred and George have at  _least_  enough consideration to not ruin someone's first impression of her?  _Why?_

"Well, by golly," Fred said, as though amazed, "Ron was right — you are 'well red,' Hermione." Ginny suddenly noticed she wasn't the only one who had blushed. As Fred and George walked out of the compartment, Hermione remained both red and silent. She looked about as uncomfortable as Ginny felt.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked her.

"Yeah," Ginny said, without making proper eye contact.

"It must be horrible having brothers like that," Hermione mused.

"It is sometimes," Ginny admitted. She loved all her family and wouldn't trade them for the world, but sometimes she just needed to be alone — which was something Hermione had also failed to grasp. Bitter thoughts started to flood Ginny's brain. Was there  _anyone_  who left her alone — or rather, anyone except Harry?

"You look angry," Hermione said suddenly. "Is something wrong?"

Ginny took a deep breath. She was about to politely ask Hermione to leave when their compartment door slid open again without so much as a knock. Ginny looked up, hoping to see Harry and Ron, but she instead saw a girl — a very pretty one with rosy cheeks and a fresh complexion. Her bronze-colored locks were tied up in the back of her head with a bright blue hair bow which perfectly matched her frilly dress. Ginny thought she looked rather like one of those old-fashioned porcelain dolls too delicate to actually play with.

"Hello," Hermione said to this girl, "what d'you —"

Before Hermione could even finish her sentence, the girl swaggered importantly into their compartment and sat down, looking very pleased with herself.

"Uh,  _hi_ ," Ginny said caustically. "Who d'you think you are?"

"Fleeta Fleece," the girl replied proudly. She blushed instantly, but she was so apple-cheeked it was barely visible — perhaps that was why she smiled shamelessly.

"My name's Ginny Weasley," Ginny replied rather harshly. Fleeta Fleece's lips, which were far pinker than was natural, delicately formed a wide smile — a smile of conceit. Clearly she felt far superior to the plain girl with red hair, freckles and secondhand clothes she saw before her.

_At least she's polite enough to not say so_ , Ginny thought contemptuously. Fleeta, meanwhile, had turned to look at Hermione, clearly not thinking any higher of Hermione's looks than she did Ginny's.

"And who are  _you_?" she asked Hermione in a rather insolent voice.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied stiffly.

Fleeta nodded, her face still rather red. Ginny noticed Fleeta's nails were the exact same pink as her lips — obviously she had used the same kind of pink gloss on them. How come  _she_  was allowed to wear makeup while Ginny, who was the obviously about the same age, wasn't?

"I guess I'm the only girl around here who's at all attractive," Fleeta said suddenly without showing the slightest indication that this might be an insensitive thing to say.

"You know, that's very rude," Hermione told Fleeta matter-of-factly.

" _So?_ " Fleeta asked in a very snooty voice. "It's  _true_ , isn't it?"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Hermione said intelligently.

"You just  _wish_  you were beautiful — I actually  _am_  beautiful," Fleeta responded, looking pleased with herself in a very self-satisfied way. She was blushing very hard now, but was not acting embarrassed at all.

"That  _doesn't_  mean you have the right to hurt other people's feelings!" Hermione said rather angrily. Fleeta's eyes widened suddenly, causing her to looked a bit contrite, but any hope Ginny had that she actually felt sorry quickly evaporated.

"Oh,  _no_!" Fleeta said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've hurt your poor, delicate  _feelings_  —  _how_  will I sleep at night?"

Rolling her eyes, Fleeta turned to look out the window at the landscape rolling by. Hermione and Ginny turned to look at each other as if to say,  _"What should we do about her?"_  After they looked at each for what seemed like a long time, Hermione turned back to face Fleeta.

"Um, Fleeta," she said in a clear voice, "could you please leave this compartment? We were here first."

"You're not the boss of me, uh, whatever-your-name-was," Fleeta responded coolly without so much as looking at Hermione, " _I_  can sit wherever  _I_  want."

"Fleeta," Ginny said quietly. Apparently annoyed, Fleeta turned away from the window and Ginny locked eyes with her. Despite her beauty, Fleeta's bluish-gray eyes looked as dull as two flat slabs of slate and seemed to lack any depth.

"C-could you please leave us alone?" Ginny asked her.

"I could," Fleeta said kindly. "However, I am  _choosing_  not to," she cheerfully added in her insolent voice. Ginny stood up, feeling a bit angry.

"Goodbye, Hermione," she said as calmly as she could. "Bye, Fleeta."

Ginny headed out of the compartment with her trunk. As soon as she found an empty compartment, she could write to her heart's content… or at least she could until they reached the place she had wanted to see for practically her entire life — either way she would get what she wanted.

"Hey, Gin," a voice said suddenly, "d'you want help with that?" Fred and George had suddenly reappeared — wasn't Percy the one who was supposed to be watching her? Where was he anyhow?

"Why, so you can sneak a look at my diary?" she asked suspiciously.

"Damn," George said aloud, "you're a tough cookie, Ginny."

"Thanks," she replied, moving away from them as quickly as possible lest they try to wrestle the diary from her. She didn't think it was likely that they'd go that far, but she wasn't taking any chances. Muttering "bye," she jogging away from them. After a few minutes of searching, Ginny failed to find an unoccupied compartment and was just about to consider who she wouldn't mind sharing one with for the rest of the train journey.

"I know you," a dreamy voice said suddenly. Ginny turned to see Luna Lovegood, the odd girl who lived near the Burrow. Although Ginny had only seen her a few times before, her straggly dirty blonde hair and most peculiar wardrobe were unmistakable.

"Hi," Ginny answered. "It's Luna, isn't it?" Luna did not reply, preferring to stare at Ginny for a few moments with her protuberant eyes.

"You're Ginny Weasley," she observed vaguely as though she were thinking about something more interesting.

"Yes, I am," Ginny agreed. "We live near you, but I've never really properly met you. Is this your first year too?"

"It is," Luna said. "Have you ever considered wearing your wand like this?" She pointed to her wand, which was tucked behind her ear.

"Not really," Ginny admitted.

"It's very useful," Luna enthused. "That way, it's always in your reach and you won't accidentally lose it when you change clothes."

"You'll just lose it when it falls off your ear," said Ginny.

"And you'll be able to defend yourself if you get attacked in the shower," Luna continued as though Ginny had said nothing.

"Why would you be attacked in the shower?" asked Ginny.

"Water devils," Luna whispered mystically."It's their natural habitat. Would you like to join my compartment? Most people seem to be avoiding it."

"Okay," said Ginny, figuring that Luna's company could only be an improvement over Fleeta Fleece's. She followed Luna in to find a small, mousy-haired boy reading a copy of the wizarding magazine  _The Quibbler_. Ginny knew  _The Quibbler_  was full of silly nonsense stories, but the boy seemed to be utterly absorbed in it.

"This is Colin Creevey," said Luna. "He's a first year, too. We were just talking about the school houses. He's Muggle-born, you see."

"Then why does he have a copy of  _The Quibbler_?" asked Ginny.

"That's mine," Luna said brightly. "He wanted to find out more about the wizarding world, so I let him borrow it."

" _What?_ " Ginny asked in outrage.

"Your world's really incredible!" Colin said excitedly, looking up from the magazine. "I just never thought it would be  _this_  strange." Ginny snatched it from him.

"Don't show him this!" she said, brandishing  _The Quibbler_  at Luna. "You'll confuse him."

"Confuse him about what?" Luna asked innocently.

"You know, he'll think all this nonsense is real," Ginny explained.

"How do you know it's  _not_  real?"

"Because it's not," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows  _The Quibbler_  is rubbish."

These words made Luna look shocked and hurt. She stared at Ginny for a long time and then took a seat, staring silently out the window. The expression on her face looked genuine to Ginny and she started to doubt this was an act. What if Luna hadn't been playing a practical joke on Colin when she gave him  _The Quibbler_? What if she really  _did_  believe all that stuff in it and gave it to him thinking she was being helpful? Ginny hadn't thought there was anyone who actually believed the stories in  _The Quibbler_ , but Luna  _was_  pretty strange.

"What do you think of the editor of  _The Quibbler_?" Luna asked suddenly.

"I — I don't know," Ginny said uncertainly.

"You think he's a fraud, don't you?" said Luna, almost on the verge of tears. "Or an idiot. Or just crazy."

"Do you know him?" asked Ginny. Luna considered it.

"Why does that make a difference?" she said eventually. "If my father wasn't my father, would it be okay for us to sit here and laugh at how stupid is?"

"He's your  _father_?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"Dad warned me not everyone believes in  _The Quibbler_ , but..." Luna's voice trailed off.

"Can we talk about something else?" suggested Ginny, thinking that at this point she might have preferred Fleeta's insults.

"How would  _you_  like it if everyone thought your father's work was worthless?" Luna asked rather hotly.

"Everyone  _does_ ," Ginny answered. "My father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office." The two girls stared at each other for a rather long time.

"My dad's a milkman," Colin added cheerfully.

* * *

A long time later, Luna went off to search for someone else who believed in  _The Quibbler_  and Colin went with her. Figuring they were going to be gone for a long time, Ginny took the opportunity to change into her Hogwarts robes. She then took out Tom Riddle's diary and hugged it for awhile, feeling almost as though he were holding her, and then laid the book out on her lap. She was on the point of taking out her quill when —

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Why?  _Why_  did everything  _always_  have to go this way? She had wanted to share her feelings about being on the Hogwarts Express for the first time, but her chance had been completely ruined. Ginny didn't feel like writing anymore and angrily tossed Tom's diary aside. Feeling sulky, she looked out the window at the dark forest outside.

Suddenly, she started to cry.

Then she remembered this was the day she had been looking forward to since who-knows-when. She couldn't cry now — she was supposed to be happy. In all her mental images of this fateful day she had never imagined herself crying, but she went on blubbering loudly.

Ginny sighed mentally.

Perhaps she deserved to cry now — somehow it seemed fulfilling. She had been through so much and now was the time to let it all out — so she would be ready for Hogwarts.


	6. Gryffindor House

"Firs' years! Firs' years come here!" cried a familiar voice. It was a Hagrid, holding a lamp above the heads of all the first years. Ginny and the rest of students had just gotten off the train in Hogsmeade, a small wizarding village near Hogwarts. It was now late at night — probably well past her bedtime, she thought. She couldn't help feeling a bit grown-up knowing she was up and about this late and wouldn't get in trouble for it.

Once Hagrid was sure he had all the first years, he led them down a narrow path, which Ginny's feet kept slipping on. It was so dark she couldn't see what was on either side of her and she found herself feeling rather scared, but it was a "good" scared. Eventually, they rounded a bend and...

It was there.

Right before her bare eyes.

The castle she had wanted to see for so many years was right there and nothing separated her from it but air. Its windows sparkled like the stars behind it and its hundreds of spires reached up towards the heavens. The castle looked to Ginny as if it had been chiseled out of the mountain upon which it sat in moody silence. It was almost overwhelming for her to just suddenly see Hogwarts all at once after waiting years and years for it, but it, though she could have not explained why, made everything she had gone through to get there worth it.

Soon, they were all aboard the fleet of boats which carried them across the lake and up to the school. Ginny knew this was coming as she had heard about it, but it was such a thing to actually experience it. This made her remember that this was the day she had so desperately wanted to come for so long and which for most of her life seemed impossibly far off. And now it was here — really here. Such were Ginny's thoughts as they glided gently over the water and she continued to stare at the castle. She turned around to see the reaction of the person behind her.

The person behind her was none other than Kimmy Seong, the Muggle-born girl she had met in Diagon Alley. Kimmy obviously recognized Ginny too, because she anxiously smiled at her, which was more than could be said for the boy sitting to Kimmy's left. He was the same shy brown-haired boy Ginny had seen on the train and he seemed to be feeling very self-conscious, looking away to avoid making eye-contact with anyone. There was also a girl Ginny hadn't seen before who was small and thin like someone who had lost weight due to illness. She had long unkempt black hair, dark green eyes and her skin seemed to be tinted slightly green, making it horribly clash with her clothing. Unlike all the other first years, who were gazing up at the castle in awe, this sad-looking girl was staring into the water as though Hogwarts was not at all of interest to her.

However, it was to Ginny and she turned back to face it just as they reached the cliff upon which the castle of her dreams stood.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled suddenly, giving Ginny something of a shock.

After they were carried through a curtain of ivy, which concealed an opening into the cliff, Ginny sat back up again to see where they going. It was really dark, but she could tell they were in a tunnel which seemed to be taking them under the castle. Ginny wasn't sure why they were going this way, but she was really excited to find out. When they eventually reached a kind of underground port Ginny started climbing out of the boat a few seconds before they actually landed and ended up being the first person on the rocky shore.

Hagrid led them all up a passageway and onto the grass right in the shadow of Hogwats. Ginny noticed Luna Lovegood seemed to be watching something invisible fly away from the school's entrance and into the forest. Hagrid knocked on the oak front doors four times and it swung open immediately. On the other side was a woman with spectacles and black hair in a tight bun who could only be Professor McGonagall. Ginny's brothers had warned her that McGonagall was very strict, and the stern look on her face did nothing to debunk that.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid explained.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them on from here," McGonagall answered as she pulled the doors wide open, revealing Ginny's very first view of Hogwarts' interior.

The entrance hall was lit with flaming torches and ahead of them a marble staircase led upstairs. Ginny tried to take it all in. She was now inside Hogwarts — inside that picturesque castle she had seen from the lake — and she would spend the next several months there. Professor McGonagall led them into a small, cramped chamber. They had to stand closer together than they would have liked to, but Ginny didn't mind much. She just wanted to know why they were in there. After all, this seemed a rather strange place to bring the first-year students on their first day.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGongall told them briskly. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you will have to be sorted into your houses. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are here, your triumphs will earn your house points, but any rule-breaking will lose your house points."

McGonagall looked around and seemed to say without words,  _"But we won't have to worry about that, because none of you will break any rules, right?"_  Nobody said anything and she pressed on.

"At the end of year, the house which has won the most points is awarded the house cup," she continued as though she had not paused. "I hope each of you will become a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

McGonagall left the chamber with a businesslike walk and somebody gulped. Ginny had completely forgotten about the Sorting and that she still hadn't made Gryffindor. So very soon she would find out if she would be in Gryffindor like her brothers, parents and Harry or... Ginny couldn't even consider the alternatives. She had to be Gryffindor — she simply  _had_  to be.

She looked around at her classmates and instantly saw she was not alone in feeling scared. Both Colin Creevey and the boy with light brown hair Ginny had seen on the train were tense. The sad-looking girl was looking wild-eyed with fear. Fleeta Fleece, on the other hand, was trying (and failing) to mask her obvious apprehension with a general look of disdain and contempt. The only person who might not have been scared was Luna Lovegood, who was staring off into space as though only vaguely aware of the importance of what would be happening shortly.

Ginny hated being stuck in the small antechamber and wished she could at least have something else to think about. She certainly hadn't expected Professor McGonagall to lock up all the first years like this the moment they arrived. How long were they going to be left in there? Listening to the noise and excitement that emanated from the happy people in the Great Hall made her worry that McGonagall might forget about them and leave them in there for ages. And how were they going to be sorted anyway? All she knew was that Ron had assured her that it didn't involve wrestling a troll — which wasn't all too comforting.

After an aggravating eternity, Professor McGonagall returned and led them out of the chamber in a line. The doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing the most extraordinary room Ginny had ever seen in her life. She stared at the thousands of candles floating in the air and the hundreds of students and dozen or so teachers watching the procession of first years. There were also about twenty pearly white ghosts — though there was a ghoul who haunted the attic of her house, Ginny had never seen an actual ghost before. She recognized Nearly Headless Nick, the resident ghost of Gryffindor who had not quite been properly beheaded, whom her brothers had told her about.

Ginny was so absorbed by the magnificent room, she probably could have stepped on a nail without noticing. But why were there two empty seats at the the teacher's table? One was obvious McGonagall's, but who did the other one belong to? Ginny suddenly remembered that Harry and Ron might be missing and searched the Gryffindor table with her eyes for them, but she didn't find them. She decided that they were probably there somewhere and that she just couldn't see them from where she was standing, but she still felt a bit worried that they had been left behind.

Professor McGonagall delicately set a stool in front of the first years and then placed a very battered wizard's hat on it. Ginny didn't know what was going to happen, but told herself to stay calm. As Ginny was thinking that this was one of the most important moments of her entire life, a rip near the bottom of the hat opened and the hat began to sing:

" _You could say that I am blind_

_I can't see, as I have no eyes_

_But I see inside your mind_

_And I have never told lies_

_Just put me on your little head_

_and with my wisdom of old_

_I'll tell you little young ones_

_where you fit into the fold_

_Maybe I'll yell 'Gryffindor'_

_for all the hall the hear_

_Then you'll be in the house_

_for those who control their fear_

_Or maybe you'll join Hufflepuff,_

_home of the loyal and just;_

_For those who value fairness_

_and hope it never crumbles into dust._

_If you value intelligence beyond all,_

_Ravenclaw is where you belong;_

_Those of you who answer questions_

_and never get them wrong._

_If you are of the ambitions sort,_

' _Slytherin' is the word I'll yell._

_Your crafty mind will lead you_

_On the long road to excel!"_

The hall applauded and the hat turned completely still again. Ginny felt a bit relieved now that she knew what she was facing, but whatever the hat said, Ginny knew nobody really listened to that. If somebody told you they were in Slytherin, you wouldn't think they were ambitious — you would think they were a rotten scoundrel.

Ginny wasn't really ambitious, so maybe she wouldn't be in Slytherin — after all, Percy was pretty ambitious and  _he_  hadn't ended up in Slytherin. This didn't comfort her at all and she felt more scared than ever — the moment of truth was coming. She wasn't sure if she wanted to get it over with or if she wanted it to be postponed forever.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," said Professor McGonagall, holding a long roll of parchment. "Abidawf, Arthur!"

A black boy came forward slowly, looking extremely nervous, and put the hat on his head. There was silence for a moment —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Sorting Hat yelled.

The table on the right cheered as the boy joined the Hufflepuff table, where he was welcomed by a second-year girl with blonde hair in a ponytail. Ginny wasn't paying much attention. She was bracing herself for when it would be her turn. She struggled to keep a cool head and to not panic. Panicking would do her no good.

"Andrews, Blythe!"

The shortest of all the first years came forward looking terrified and placed the hat on her head. The hat shouted "RAVENCLAW!" and the Ravenclaw table cheered as they got their first new student.

"Creevey, Colin!"

Colin Creevey, looking agitated, put the hat on his head and was declared a Gryffindor. He ran to the Gryffindor table so fast you would have expected him to trip and fall on his face, but he didn't. It sounded horrible, but Ginny would have loved to see it happen, wondering if he would have simply bounced back up again still looking perky. However, she felt considerably more down when Fleeta Fleece inexplicably made Gryffindor. Ginny was going to have to spend seven years sleeping in the same dorm as Fleeta Fleece… at least if Ginny made Gryffindor. As a curly-haired girl named "Frangible, Muna" joined the Hufflepuff table, Ginny found herself feeling very nervous.

"Gemini, Artemis!"

An amiable-looking girl with auburn hair walked up to the hat, which declared her a Ravenclaw. "Gemini, Apollo," evidentially Artemis' brother, came next and also went to Ravenclaw. After "Gumption, Momus," "Harper, Leonard," and "Katsaris, Aris," McGonagall asked for "Lascasas, Minos," who was the shy boy with light brown hair. After he became a Gryffindor, Luna Lovegood joined the Ravenclaw table and "Milsitupary, Dale" became a Slytherin.

"Pasiphaë, Lorelei!"

It was the sad-looking girl from Ginny's boat. Lorelei Pasiphaë was so ungainly it looked as though she had never learned to walk properly. Once she had walked up to the hat, she just stared at it — looking like she was less than an inch away from a complete emotional breakdown. Apparently, it took every ounce of courage she possessed for her to move her arms off her chest, where she had been cradling them, so she could pick up the hat with her trembling hands.

Surprisingly, the hat declared her a Gryffindor almost instantly and the Sorting continued with "Pendel, Mark" and "Robinson, Sarah."

"Seong, Kim!"

Kimmy Seong, looking no less scared than the others, but still trying to smile, stepped up to the hat and put it on her head. After she was finally placed in Gryffindor, she went to take her seat as "Waterwitch, Cressida" was called up. At long last, when Ginny was the only one left, McGonagall said the two words she knew were coming:

"Weasley, Ginevra!"

Why did she always have to be last? As she walked up, Ginny thought angrily about this. She was happy to put the hat on since it slid down past her eyes, hiding her face from the staring eyes of all the other students. She was still thinking about how angry she was at being last when she realized it might effect the hat's calculations. She quickly and desperately started thinking of every brave thing she had ever done, particularly flying. But what if she didn't end up in Gryffindor? What would her parents say? These thoughts made her feel very aware of her heartbeat and clammy hands. Now she was afraid, she suddenly realized, and Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.

_Calm down_ , she desperately thought to herself, but she had never felt less calm. Her future was being decided right now and she couldn't have even begun to the describe the shame and humiliation she would feel if she were put her in Hufflepuff or, worse, Slytherin. Of all the times for her to have a mental breakdown,  _why_  did have to be then? It wouldn't put her in Gryffindor now, not when she was this scared. Maybe Ravenclaw was the best she could hope for at this point. She clenched her fists tightly to avoid panicking and snapped her eyes blindingly shut, preparing herself for the worst.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Ginny let out a gasp of relief no one heard as the hall applauded loudly. The hat had scarcely been on her head for more than a few seconds, but it had seemed so much longer. As she reached the Gryffindor table and was welcomed by her brothers and the rest of the students, everything seemed to become surreal. It was like she was in dream, causing her to became afraid that she might wake up to find herself back in her bedroom at the Burrow. By the time she sat down, she didn't seem to have any real memory of heading down to the Gryffindor table after taking off the Sorting Hat. She knew she'd done it, but it was all a blur. Then a realization hit her.

She was now a Gryffindor — a real Gryffindor. She decided that this was probably the best moment of her life so far.

Ginny looked up at the High Table, which she could now see properly, and recognized Hagrid and Gilderoy Lockhart. Ginny had forgotten Lockhart would be teaching them and spotting him sitting there in his aquamarine robes with a smug  _I'm-more-important-than-you_  smile did not make her very happy. In the center was Dumbledore himself. His crooked nose and twinkling blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles were all there, just as she had seen pictures of him, but there was some feeling you could only get by seeing him in person.

Ginny could have sworn that as he looked over the students he had smiled straight at her for just a moment. She felt like smiling back at him — not feeling even the tiniest bit embarrassed as she did whenever Harry was near her. Dumbledore stood up, clearly about to make a speech, and Ginny's eagerness grew. This would be the first time she would hear him speak.

SLAM!

Before Dumbledore could open his mouth, an ugly hook-nosed, black-haired and black-cloaked figure swiftly marched into the room. Several people gasped in shock as the sinister figure walked straight up to Dumbledore and began conversing with him. Ginny couldn't hear what they were saying.

"Snape," someone whispered.

Professor Snape, the Potions teacher whom Ginny had not heard promising stories about, certainly looked the way she thought he would. He was clearly the other teacher whose chair had been empty. Ginny realized with a start that Harry and Ron were definitely missing now. Ginny was seated near her other brothers and Hermione — if Harry and Ron were there, they would clearly be seated nearby which would put them in plain view of her.

Though Ginny had been worried that Harry and Ron weren't there, she had fully expected that she was just being overanxious. She hadn't  _really_  thought that it might actually be true. Trust her to not believe her instincts when they were right. As Snape left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall, Ginny wondered where Harry and Ron had gotten to. Were they still on the platform? No, her parents would have been there and they wouldn't have just left them. Ginny hoped McGonagall was heading off to sort the whole mess out and that Harry and Ron weren't in trouble.

Dumbledore made his speech and then left just as the magnificent feast began. The dishes in front of them were instantly pilled with every variety of food, but Ginny could hardly eat. Harry and Ron were clearly lost and a story was floating around that they had crashed a flying car. The flying car detail seemed just too specific for it to not be her father's car and with that it was logical to assume they had indeed missed the train. Had they flown the car all the way from London by themselves? They must have been so scared...

After the feast ended, Percy led the first years up to Gryffindor Tower. At the end of their trek through endless corridors and passageways, they reached a hall with a portrait of a fat woman in pink dress — the Fat Lady, Ginny knew she was called.

"Password?" said the Fat Lady.

"Wattlebird," Percy replied importantly.

The portrait swung open, revealing a hole leading into the cozy Gryffindor common room. There were two separate staircases, one leading to the boys' dormitory and the other to the girls'. Despite what Percy seemed to think, Ginny did  _not_  need to be pulled aside and told which one she was supposed to go up.

"Now Ginny, you'll be all right sleeping up there, okay?" he asked her. Ginny felt tempted to say something sarcastic, but she couldn't think of anything and nodded instead.

"Great, if you need anything —" he said quickly.

"Percy, I'm not going to need anything," she interrupted, feeling very annoyed. Why did he still have to treat her like this? What made her so different from the rest of the first years?

"Yes, but —"

"Percy, I'll be fine!"

It was not much later that Harry and Ron entered the common room, beaten up but still alive and evidentially not expelled. Their classmates excitedly hounded them, missing the fact that Harry at least was clearly not enjoying it. It seemed Harry frequently got lots of attention and Ginny was the only one to notice he didn't enjoy it. Why didn't anyone else ever notice Harry's feelings? They were always so obvious to Ginny. Was she just that right for him? If that were so, it would make the fact that she couldn't make herself talk in front of him all the more sad.

The rest of the night was uneventful. As soon as Fleeta, Kimmy and Lorelei were asleep, Ginny cautiously took out Tom Riddle's diary and embraced it — she could feel love — real love from deep within her wildly pounding heart — for this little black book. If she hadn't figured out what she'd left behind… well, she didn't want to think about it.

With a shacking hand, she wrote, "Dear Tom, I'm in my dormitory at Hogwarts. How I got here still amazes me. I think I'm really going to enjoy it at Hogwarts, it's even more amazing than I imagined. I got sorted into Gryffindor, just as I'd hoped!" Ginny felt the added exclamation point best expressed her feelings.

" _That's good. I can still remember when I was sorted. I didn't know anything about the different houses, and I was afraid I would end up somewhere I wouldn't belong. As I told you before, people are really more scared by the Sorting than they should be. After all, the Sorting Hat has not made one mistake in a thousand years."_

Ginny continued writing to Tom Riddle well into the night. It was amazing how so much had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She became more and more tired as time went on and eventually decided to stop when she had trouble forming letters properly, but putting the diary away wasn't as easy as it sounded. What if someone found the diary and decided to inspect it? And what about the next morning? She would have classes, so the diary would either have to remain hidden somewhere for most of the day or she would have to carry it on her person at all times and she didn't much like either option.

After pacing around for awhile and thinking desperately about how tired she felt, she pushed the diary deep under her mattress and climbed into bed. She fell asleep easily.


	7. The Howler

Ginny and Harry were sitting together under a tree in a beautiful field. The sun was shinning brightly overhead — it was a perfect day. He reached forward and gently caressed her cheek. Ginny's skin tingled a little, but she smiled anyway. It was such a wonderful moment. Then he started moving closer to her — they were coming together into a tight embrace — she was going to be snuggled in Harry's arms. When they were together, they would both feel all snug and happy.

"Ginny…" she suddenly heard a voice from off in the distance say. It sounded like it was the wind. She looked up into the sky to see where it was coming from.

"What?" Ginny asked the sky, annoyed that her moment with Harry had been interrupted. Something was prodding her, but she tried to ignore it.

"Ginny, you need to wake up," it told her. The voice sounded vaguely feminine.

"What?" asked Ginny. This didn't seem to make a lot of sense.

However, she found Harry, the tree, and indeed the entire scene had dissolved. She could feel a sheet and blanket draped over her and her heavy head resting on a pillow. She knew it had only been a dream — knew she was in her bed — but she didn't want to wake up — she wanted the dream back. The prodding continued — it was probably her mother or Percy. Couldn't they leave her alone for just  _one_  moment of her life? Couldn't they just let her enjoy a good dream without ruining it?

"C'mon Ginny, it's time to wake up."

The voice was definitely female and it took Ginny a second or two to place it — it was Kimmy Seong. Ginny squinted her eyes open. She wasn't at home — she was in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory at Hogwarts.

"Ginny, remember me?" Kimmy asked cheerfully. "We met in Diagon Alley."

"Yeah, I remember," Ginny said groggily, as she forced herself to sit up. It was strange how in the early moments of waking up she had somehow forgotten she was at Hogwarts now. Kimmy was wide awake and already fully dressed. How early had she gotten up?

"You know, I've never been in a boarding school before," Kimmy told Ginny in a slightly nervous voice.

"I've never been in  _any_  kind of school before," Ginny replied casually.

"You haven't?" Kimmy asked, obviously surprised. "How'd you learn to read and write and everything?"

"My mum taught me," Ginny explained tersely as she prepared to get out of bed, wishing she could sleep for awhile longer.

Eventually, Ginny forced herself to her feet. It was quite chilly with only a nightdress on — chilly enough to make her shiver a little — but she was no stranger to the cold. She and Kimmy were not the only ones awake — another girl was sitting by a mirror brushing her light brown hair. It took Ginny a couple seconds to realize it was Fleeta Fleece as she looked very different with her hair down. Fleeta threw Ginny a sharp look of disapproval, which she returned.

"Well, girls," Kimmy said buoyantly, apparently not noticing this, "I was thinking — we're probably all going to get to be really close friends. I mean, we're going to be eating together and dressing together and sleeping in the same room and everything."

"Oh, joy," Fleeta said sarcastically without even looking at her.

"As Ginny already knows, my name's Kim Seong," Kimmy continued, ignoring Fleeta's rudeness, "but I like to be called 'Kimmy.' Anyway, I'm sure we're all a little scared being in this strange new place, but we're all in the same boat so I think we should all be friends and help each other out and everything."

"All right," Ginny agreed, though she was certain she would survive Hogwarts perfectly well without anyone's help. Kimmy turned to Fleeta.

"Oh, were you talking to  _me_?" she asked haughtily.

"Uh, yeah," said Kimmy, "I was talking to both of you. I was wondering if you'd like to be friends with us?"  _Us?_  Ginny had no intention of being Fleeta Fleece's friend.

"Well, you can stop wondering, because I won't," Fleeta said as she stood up to get a better look at her reflection in the mirror. Ginny was privately relieved.

"Why not?" asked Kimmy, sounding rather appalled.

"Because  _I_  have standards," Fleeta replied proudly as she tied her hair up with the same blue hair bow she had worn the previous day, making herself look unmistakably like she had then. Judging by the rest of her outfit, she was apparently continuing her trend of dressing like someone from the year 1900.

"What kind of standards?" Kimmy asked curiously.

"Standards that don't let people like  _you_  be my friend," Fleeta answered curtly, before turning to strut out of the room. Kimmy looked crushed.

"It's all right," Ginny assured her, "she's just not a nice person."

"How long have you known her?" Kimmy asked skeptically.

"Since yesterday," said Ginny casually, "but I already know everything about  _her_  I want to."

"Maybe she'll open up later," Kimmy suggested hopefully.

"Yeah, that'll happen after they reinstate the Triwizard Tournament," Ginny said sarcastically.

Kimmy sighed and turned to Lorelei Pasiphaë's bed to pull back the scarlet curtains. Lorelei was fast asleep and curled up in a fetal position. She was still wearing her school robes from the previous day.

"C'mon, wake up," Kimmy said, shacking her gently. "Today's our first day." Lorelei, not quite awake, moaned in response. "C'mon, you have to get up so you can get dressed. Well, you already are dressed, I guess, but... well, just get up, okay?"

Lorelei's eyes opened slowly and seemed to take in Kimmy's sunny face very gradually. Staring at her with a blank expression, Lorelei sank down into the bedclothes, shivering and looking terrified as though Kimmy was some kind of terrible monster.

"It's okay," Kimmy told her in a very soothing voice. "It's okay. What's your name?"

"Lorelei Pasiphaë," said Ginny. "I remembered it from the Sorting."

"Your name's Lorelei?" Kimmy asked her. "That's a pretty name — a very, very pretty name." Lorelei, staring at Kimmy as though she had never seen another human being before, nodded anxiously. She was blushing a little too, which looked odd with the greenish complexion she still seemed to have. Ginny could only assume she must be recovering from a nasty bout of dragon pox.

"Can you speak?" Kimmy asked her kindly. Lorelei didn't say anything for at least three seconds, but she eventually nodded, her green eyes widening even further. Kimmy looked sympathetically back at her for a moment.

"You can talk to me," Kimmy told her gently. "Why don't you tell me how you feel?" Lorelei opened her mouth, but it took her awhile to make any sound come out.

"I —" she mumbled, speaking in a hoarse voice. "I'm, uh — I — I feel — I'm… cold…" Lorelei shivered and tightened the blanket around herself. Kimmy brought Lorelei into her arms and held her tightly, rocking her like a baby. Lorelei started to cry silently into Kimmy's shoulder.

"It's okay, it's okay," Kimmy cooed her.

"I — I feel scared," Lorelei muttered, sounding as though she had just figured out how to string words together into sentences.

"Of what?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"Of — of — of —" Lorelei began in a very low voice, "of… everything…"

"Oh, you can't be afraid of  _everything_!" Kimmy said instantly.

"Well, I  _am_ ," Lorelei insisted. "I feel cold. I just wanna go home… I — I feel so scared and hungry and tired and — and cold and — and… tired… and…"

"It's okay, it's okay," Kimmy told her gently. "Everything's all right now."

Ginny was starting to feel excluded, but didn't say anything. As Ginny finished getting dressed, Kimmy went on coddling Lorelei, telling her that everything was all right and that she would always be there for her. Not that Ginny could find any fault in her motives, but she thought Kimmy was treating Lorelei too much like a baby. Though Lorelei didn't seem to mind this Ginny still didn't like it. It seemed similar to the way Ginny's family treated her like a four-year-old —  _too_  similar.

Down in the common room, Ginny found Hermione sitting alone in a corner reading a book. Ginny decided to say hi to her. After all, Hermione was very close to Harry, so Ginny could find out about him from her. She had already heard a lot about Harry from Ron, of course, but something told her Ron wasn't the most reliable source. Maybe Hermione could even help Ginny work up to actually talking to Harry. Maybe it would be easier anyway without her family always there.

"Hello, Hermione," Ginny said, trying to sound casual, as she sat down by Hermione. "What're you doing?"

"I was just rereading  _Wandering with Werewolves_ ," Hermione gushed enthusiastically. "Isn't Professor Lockhart  _amazing_?"

"Very," Ginny said shortly.

"I was just reading how he saved a house-elf from a Stuttering Curse," Hermione continued breathlessly. "The things he can do, isn't he  _incredible_? It's so nice that we can be taught by someone who has this much experience, isn't it?"

Ginny didn't want to answer, but fortunately for her Hermione went on rambling about Lockhart apparently not requiring any response from Ginny. Ginny didn't listen to any of this, as it was all very boring, but instead tried to decide how soon she should mention Harry. How long was natural? Though she did want to find out more about him, she didn't want it to seem as though she had an abnormal interest in him. It was already embarrassing enough that everyone thought she was stuck on him.

"Are you listening to me?" Hermione asked suddenly. She had sounded angry — and slightly hurt.

"Yeah," Ginny lied, not wanting to hurt Hermione's feelings. She decided to listen to everything else Hermione said just to be nice, but Hermione wasn't talking anymore. She was studying Ginny carefully — with something very much like dislike...

"I'm sorry," Ginny said without thinking. Her face felt rather hot now and a tight knot had formed in her stomach. Why did she even care whether Hermione liked her anyway?

"Are you really sorry?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

Ginny wasn't sure how to answer that question.  _Are you really sorry?_  Well, she felt pretty bad, but did she  _really_  feel sorry? She thought it over and decided that her feeling bad came close enough to qualify as feeling sorry. That was probably the kind of thing Hermione had meant anyway.

"Yes," she said eventually, looking up at Hermione's apathetic face, "I am sorry."

Hermione didn't say or do anything.

"I wasn't listening and I'm sorry," she said, looking Hermione in the eye, which she thought was rather brave of her. Hermione looked at her, seeming to be having a change of heart. There was an awkward moment of silence between them. Though Ginny could still hear other people talking, she and Hermione remained completely silent.

"Why don't I show you down to the Great Hall?" Hermione said eventually. "I  _was_  waiting for Harry and Ron, but they're  _obviously_  sleeping in after the little adventure they had last night." There was a palpable degree of scorn in her voice as she said the last part of this which Ginny somehow felt the sting of.

"I can find my way there by myself!" Ginny replied indignantly as she got up. She hated it when people assumed she couldn't do anything on her own.

"No, you can't," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Trust me — it took me about a week and a half to find the Great Hall without getting lost." Hermione hadn't sounded at all patronizing when she had said this. Maybe — just maybe — she was at least one person who didn't think Ginny was "too young".

"All right," agreed Ginny and they left the common room together. As they traversed a chamber filled with bronze sculptures of various types of fish, Ginny asked Hermione about Harry and Ron's late arrival at Hogwarts. Hermione gave a huge sigh before answering.

"Dean Thomas said that Ron said the barrier at Kings Cross wouldn't let them through," she explained grimly, "so they decided to fly a car to Hogwarts. Then they crashed into the Whomping Willow."

"Well," Ginny said carefully, "then they shouldn't really get in trouble, r-right? I mean, they didn't have any other choice, did they?"

"There are other ways of getting to school then flying a car," Hermione responded. "I suppose you don't have any idea where that car came from, do you?"

Ginny wasn't going to tell Hermione the truth about the car, but she didn't want to lie either, so she said nothing. Neither she nor Hermione said anything more for the rest of their journey to the Great Hall. Ginny wanted to tell Hermione that she was being completely unfair and that she ought to be feeling sorry for what Harry and Ron had gone through. But she didn't.

Ginny's first thought when she got downstairs was that the Great Hall definitely looked different in the daylight than it did at night. She wasn't sure which version of the hall she preferred, but eventually settled on the night — though perhaps this was only because it happened to be a dull, cloudy day. Hermione sat down and took out her copy of  _Voyages with Vampires_ , propping it open against a milk jug. Ginny decided to sit a fair distance away from her. She wasn't sure whether or not she liked Hermione, but she did think she had had enough of her for the day.

When Harry and Ron arrived, they received a very stiff greeting from Hermione. The damage had been done — couldn't Hermione just put it behind her? Still it was better than no greeting at all and that was what Ginny gave them. Of course, now Ginny didn't have to be near Harry and could at least eat in peace. But it was just so sad that she was actually  _happy_  about that. Well, a little happy anyway.

Ginny suddenly heard a rushing sound above her and looked up to see about a hundred owls swooping down into the room. She involuntarily jumped in fright though she knew it must simply be the morning mail. Fleeta Fleece grinned superiorly at her. Ginny felt humiliated.

" _Errol!_ " she heard Ron say. Ginny looked down the table and saw Errol had crashed into Hermione's milk jug while attempting to make a delivery. She was about to scoot closer to see what the letter was until she noticed Errol had a scarlet envelope in his beak — a Howler. Ginny cautiously backed away hoping Fleeta Fleece didn't know she and Ron were related.

Ginny tried to go back to eating and pretend she hadn't noticed the Howler, but she was anxious simply because she knew what would happen in a few moment and couldn't resist half-listening.

"What's the matter?"

"She's — she's sent me a Howler."

"You'd better open it, Ron — it'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and —" (Ginny heard a gulp) "— it was horrible."

There was silence for a moment as Ginny tried to think only about eating her porridge. She didn't really care what she was eating at this point so long as it preoccupied her.

"What's a Howler?" Ginny heard Harry ask. There was no answer, but she knew poor Harry would know in just a few seconds...

"Open it — it'll all be over in a few minutes —"

Ginny tried to think of a good way to get out of the Great Hall before Ron would be forced to open the Howler, but she couldn't. She looked up, giving up on her previous plan, and began to brace herself for what was going to happen.

Just because Ginny knew what was coming didn't mean she was ready for it. At the most unexpected moment, she heard a loud burst of sound. She had known what she would hear before she heard it and she was right — it was her mother's voice, magically magnified about a thousand times, scolding Ron for flying the car to school. The world was so unfair. It wasn't Harry and Ron's fault the train had left without them, but Harry looked so ashamed of himself…

As talk began to rise up again Ginny looked down at her porridge, no longer feeling hungry. Ginny didn't know who she was more angry with — Harry and Ron had been beaten up by a mad tree and were made to feel guilty for it by her mother, Hermione and Percy, but were adored for it by almost everyone else in Gryffindor. Harry and Ron shouldn't have been scolded  _or_  praised for what had happened — they should have been pitied. Was Ginny the only one who could see how they must feel?

Or was she simply the only one who cared?

If she were Harry's friend, Ginny would gently put her arms around him, stroke his back and tell him the whole thing about the flying car wasn't his fault. He would really like her because she would be so understanding — not at all like the heroines of some books Ginny had read who always seemed to demand absurd feats of the hero. Harry was only human after all — just like she was. Ginny felt certain that if Harry knew her — really knew her — he would like her just as much as she did him.

But that was never going to happen. She had blown her chance to connect with Harry over the summer. She so wanted to be his friend, but just being around him made her feel more self-conscious than she could handle. Maybe it was just not to be.

Ginny looked down at her schedule to see what her first class was.


	8. Rooster Feathers

"Dear Tom, I still can't believe it's October. It's rather scary to think I've already spent more than a month at Hogwarts. What if the rest of the year goes by just as quickly and I don't enjoy any of it?" Ginny, lying face-down on her dormitory bed, watched these words slowly fade away.

Ginny had not taken the diary outside of her dormitory since she had arrived at school — it just didn't feel safe having it out there. It was difficult finding time to write to Tom when she had to share her dormitory with three other girls and did not want any of them, especially not Fleeta Fleece, to find out she had a diary. Thus, she usually wrote to Tom either during the day when they were all elsewhere, which had the unfortunate side effect of making Percy wonder why she was apparently spending so much time in bed, or else late at night when they were all asleep.

" _Time passes most quickly when you're enjoying yourself. That means you must already be really enjoying yourself. Do you think you're enjoying Hogwarts?"_

"I guess," Ginny wrote back. "I suppose it must be better than being cooped up at the Burrow. That sounds really pathetic coming from a girl who's been waiting for this her whole life, doesn't it?"

" _Not at all. It's completely understandable that you would want to get away from such a repressive home life and be on your own for once."_

"Well, it's all right here. It's just that a lot of the classes are hard and boring. Snape's is the worst, followed by Lockhart."

" _I thought you said Lockhart was an idiot. How hard could his classes be?"_

"I haven't told you about Lockhart's classes before? Well, they certainly aren't hard. He just reads his books aloud and sometimes has students reenact parts from them. Fleeta has managed to make herself Lockhart's favorite and always gets the part of the damsel in distress which all the other girls want."

" _Except you, of course."_

"Of course," Ginny agreed. "It's rather scary how many girls seem to like him. I don't know if Fleeta actually likes him though or if she just likes making the other girls jealous. Either way, those two deserve each other. I'll never know how she ended up in Gryffindor. Personally, I think she would be much more at home in Slytherin."

" _You really don't like Slytherin, do you?"_

"Of course not! More Dark witches and wizards have come out of Slytherin than any other house! You know, You-Know-Who himself was in Slytherin."

" _Really? That's quite interesting..."_

* * *

Ginny's arms felt tired, as though she had been using them for some aggravating task for the past hour — like building a brick wall. She didn't quite remember how they had gotten that way — she just wanted to rest them. This was when she realized she was outside, just a few yards away from Hagrid's hut, and, for a reason she didn't know, icy cold fear flooded through her body.

The reason for this soon came to her; she had absolutely no recollection whatsoever of how she had gotten there. She desperately racked her brains. The last thing she could remember was sitting in her dormitory and writing in Tom Riddle's diary. She must have decided to go outside or something and had gotten lost in thought, but she had a horrible, foreboding feeling that it was much worse. After all, how could she have gotten so far from her dormitory and not have even the vaguest memory of going there?

She couldn't remember what she might have been thinking about either and desperately looked around for a clue. When she glanced down at herself, she saw there were rooster feathers all over her robes. Panic flooded though her. What was going on? Was she losing her memory? What should she do? Was this serious? Should she tell someone? She was shaking, though not just with fear. It was disagreeably cold out and for some reason she wasn't wearing her cloak. If she had decided to go outside, even without thinking, wouldn't she have still put her cloak on absent-mindedly?

Ginny heard a sound that made her flinch, but it was just Hagrid walking out the front door of his house. She had stopped by Hagrid's hut for tea a few times since the school year started, mostly in the hopes that she might meet Harry there, so she and Hagrid knew each other fairly well. Judging by the dumbstruck look on his face, Ginny must have looked downright panic-stricken.

"Hi, Ginny. Is somethin' wrong?" he asked, sounding concerned.

For a reason she could not have explained, Ginny took off running as fast as she could towards the school. Her heart was pounding and her legs were aching, but she ignored them as she raced down hallways and up staircases. She ran so vigorously that she could barely walk by the time she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. However, after giving her the password, Ginny forced herself to continue running. The only person in the common room was a fifth year who said "what the —" as she dashed past him.

Hoping he didn't know who she was, Ginny rushed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Happy to find her dormitory deserted, she collapsed onto her bed and laid there for what seemed like hours trying to catch her breath. There was a stitch in her side, she could hardly breathe and she was coated in sweat, but she didn't care. She had had to get there as quickly as possible and feeling utterly fatigued was a fair price for that.

_Everything's all right now_ , she told herself.  _You just need to calm down._

But if she was telling herself everything was all right now, didn't that imply it had not been all right before? Suddenly a deep, impenetrable fear spread through her.

_I'm losing control of myself_ , she thought desperately.

Ginny felt her back tingle — it was such a scary concept. Could that really be happening? What could she do? She suddenly recalled something that had happened to her in her first week at Hogwarts. Late at night, she had been writing to Tom when she seemed to abruptly find herself halfway down the stairs of the girls' dormitories. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now it seemed very much like what had just happened to her. Would it happen to her again?

_I've got to tell someone while I've still got the chance,_  she thought desperately. _If I don't…_

Ginny didn't even let herself finish that sentence, but how could she talk to anyone about this? They would just try to calm her down and tell her everything was all right. And what if everything  _was_  all right and she was just overreacting to being a bit spacey? Then she would look so stupid and everyone would continue to think she was "too young". She forced herself to sit up, feeling her heart throb uncontrollably, and let an unsound calmness fall over her.

_Stay calm, Ginny, stay calm,_  she told herself. _Everything will be all right._

It seemed to be working. She didn't feel quite so scared anymore, but a painful lump formed in her throat and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.  _Go on, Ginny — just let it out._  She let herself cry for awhile. Why she felt like crying, she didn't know, but she did. After it was all over, she sat up again, feeling much better. It was almost like all her misery had left her through her tears, leaving her feeling unceasingly peaceful.

_See, you don't need to tell anyone._   _All they would have done is try to calm you down and you just did that all by yourself._

As she mentally patted herself on the back, Ginny took out Tom Riddle's diary and held it very tightly in her arms, feeling that she would be safe while she had him with her. Maybe she didn't need to tell her parents or the teachers about what had happened, but she wouldn't be  _completely_  alone with Tom there.

* * *

The following day, however, made Ginny feel worse. It started when she passed Hagrid's hut on her way to Herbology. She was afraid Hagrid might see her and she didn't know how she could possibly explain her behavior of the previous day. As she went through the day, she found herself feeling more and more anxious. What was she supposed to do? She didn't feel comfortable talking to anyone about had happened except Tom and all he had told her was to not panic, which she took to heart. Besides, that was probably what anyone else would have told her to do, expect they would have said it in a more condescending way — Tom even agreed with that.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Percy spotted her in a corridor on the fifth floor and made a point of telling her how frightfully pale she looked. He told her she should take some of the Pepperup potion being made by Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, to treat the numerous colds that had sprung up with the colder weather. No matter how much Ginny insisted she felt fine, he kept nagging her and reminding her that he was a prefect and "prefects know best".

Eventually, she decided to take the stupid potion just to shut him up. After all, otherwise he probably would have written home and blown the story out of proportion for their mother. However, the Pepperup potion had an unfortunate side effect which Percy had conveniently failed to mention; it left the ears of the drinker smoking for several hours. This was fine for most people, but Ginny was told, in various not-so-polite ways, that with her vivid red hair it made it look as though her head was on fire.

It was very humiliating. Just the stares would have been enough, but then there was the teasing. Peeves the Poltergeist poured a bucket of water over her to try to put out the "fire" and at lunch Draco Malfoy kept walking by the Gryffindor table more time than was natural just so he could call her "fire-head" each time. Ginny took this all in stride, which, having grown up with brothers who teased her all the time, was second nature to her.

While she sat in the library, trying to work on an impossible Astronomy essay and ignore the third-year boys guffawing at her, she was startled by a dreamy voice.

"You drank the Pepperup potion," it said mystically. It was Luna Lovegood, staring rather vaguely at her.

"Thanks for reminding me," Ginny replied darkly.

"You're welcome," said Luna graciously, apparently missing the sarcasm. "You know, you should try to throw it up. All the Pepperup potion was secretly poisoned by Gilderoy Lockhart as part of his evil plan to take over the universe."

"I'll take the chance," said Ginny. "Besides, if it was poison, I expect it would have killed me by now anyway."

"Well, it's your life, not mine," Luna replied as she turned to walk off.

From that point on, Ginny's day only get worse. The nadir had to be when Harry saw her with her ears flaming — she felt her face turn red as she listened to Percy hastily explain the whole story in a very one-sided manner. Ginny went to bed feeling awful and had an unpleasant dream involving Harry, some gnomes and Percy chasing her around with a goblet full of Pepperup potion.

* * *

The rest of October was fairly rocky for Ginny, but in her opinion at least she persevered considerably well, especially in light of her state. Much to her displeasure, they still had classes on Halloween, which had always been one of her favorite holidays, and one of hers was Potions. That day she managed to bungle a Forgetfulness Potion and Snape had consequently decided that she was "hopeless" and taken ten points from Gryffindor.

Harry, Ron and Hermione, however, were not going to the Halloween feast with the other students. Instead, they would be attending Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party.

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" asked Ginny when Hermione told her about this.

"That's exactly what your brother said," Hermione replied, giggling a little.

"It must be the Weasley thing to say," Ginny mused.

Ginny did not blame Harry for feeling obligated to go to the deathday party. As Hermione explained, Nearly Headless Nick had gotten Harry out of a pinch of trouble with the school's cranky caretaker Argus Filch. Filch was bad enough all by himself, but he also had a mangy cat named Mrs. Norris who roamed the castle, apparently somehow serving as his eyes and ears. Ginny normally liked cats, but she had decided that Mrs. Norris was an exception.

After all her classes for the day had ended, Ginny sat in her dormitory brooding over what had happened in Potions. She had lost Gryffindor points before (with Snape as a teacher it was rather impossible not to) but she felt worried that if she didn't get much better at Potions, she could lose Gryffindor the house cup. A fine thing it would be she were sorted into Gryffindor only to make them lose the cup.

As she often did whenever she felt particularly upset, she held Tom Riddle's diary tightly in her arms for a few moments. She loved the diary — or rather she loved the person who lived within it. She could never have expressed what he meant to her. She was holding the diary — holding Tom — so close to her and she loved the feeling of closeness…

Ginny had taken out a quill and was about to write in the diary when she stopped and looked around the room as though to make sure no one was hiding in the corners or behind her. She had become so worried about someone seeing her writing in the diary that whenever she wrote in it, she often found herself feeling as though someone was watching her. She knew this didn't make much sense — with the door closed she surely would have heard it if someone had entered the room — but looking around in back of her still helped to dispel the feeling.

"Dear Tom," she wrote after deciding the coast was clear, "it's Halloween, one of my favorite days of the year, and I'm having a bad day. I completely messed up a potion today and lost Gryffindor house points. It wasn't for the first time and now I'm getting concerned that I could lose us the house cup."

" _That's good, Ginny. It shows that you have great integrity and that you don't try to blame others for your actions. But I don't think there's any need for you to think that you'll lose Gryffindor any more points than the average first year."_

Ginny smiled to herself. These words had not brought back the ten points she had lost Gryffindor nor had they made her better at Potions, but they told her that she was still a good person. Feeling better, she quickly wrote down a reply.

"Thank you, Tom, that was really nice of you. You know, my life hasn't gotten any easier since I found you, but with you I feel like I'm not going through it all alone. I just wish something could change for the better. It would be nice if people at least stopped treating me like a five-year-old."

" _I know, Ginny. It really breaks my heart to know someone as brave and mature as you can be treated as though she were still a baby_. _"_

"Oh Tom, you're so sweet!" Ginny wrote back. "It's really not that bad though. Well, maybe it is, but I'm used to it." This was rather pathetic, but Ginny set down her quill and watched the words fade way, half-wishing she could take them back.

" _Ginny, I have to say that I find the fact that you're settling for this treatment at least twice as sad as the fact you're being treated that way in the first place."_

Tom Riddle was right; it was wrong that everyone thought Ginny was "too young". She simply didn't allow herself to think about it a great deal because it was rather painful. It made her feel angry, depressed, lonely, misunderstood and rather afraid that her whole childhood would be ruined. All of these emotions weren't at all pleasant and her anger had no where to go since she could never be brought to hate her own family. It all just made her want to cry, but if there was one thing that would reinforce she was "too young" it would be crying over "nothing". Ginny blinked back tears.

"I know you're right," she wrote back, "but it's really painful to think about it. It makes me feel all messed up inside. I don't know what I would've done if I'd never found you. I know I've said this many times, but nobody's ever understood me like you do."

* * *

Ginny thought it was rather nippy wherever she was. The more obvious thing was that her fingers were very sticky. She wanted to get whatever it was off them and instinctively tried to wipe them off on her robes, but the sticky stuff was on her clothes as well. Now that Ginny knew that, she wondered how she had not noticed it before — the sticky stuff was seeping through her clothes — it was very uncomfortable. She wanted to change, but then she realized she didn't know where she was.

Fear flooded her as she realized it had happened again — she had lost her memory for a third time.

Ginny felt rather disoriented. She gradually became aware that the sticky stuff was red paint and that she was in a Hogwarts corridor, though one she didn't recognize. It went to her head — she was lost in a strange corridor wearing clothes soaked in red paint and she had lost her memory... at least (her body tensed up) she sincerely hoped it was paint. No, it was paint — it was  _definitely_  paint. Ginny wouldn't let herself think any differently.

Then she turned around and realized where she was — right outside the girls' bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle. But she didn't feel much relief considering what was right next to it. It was twelve crudely-written foot-high words proclaiming that the "Chamber of Secrets" had been opened. And hanging under it was Mrs. Norris, looking very dead. Ginny's eyes widened — she had never seen anything so horrible in her life. If her mother or Percy were around, they would certainly have not allowed her to see this.

Then she realized the words were printed in something very familiar. It didn't take Ginny long to figure it out...

_The paint — it's the same as the paint on my clothes! I did this!_


	9. Ginny's Choice

Ginny didn't think she had ever felt more scared in her life. Not after she had had that flying accident which left her lying flat on the ground for seemingly hours. Not when she ran downstairs to see Harry inside her house for the first time. Not... well, her Sorting was a close call. She had been pretty scared she wouldn't end up in Gryffindor.

For a moment, Ginny felt strangely certain that she had done this. But how did she know that? Just the fact that the paint was on her robes didn't prove anything. She could have come across the real perpetrator by accident and he or she could have put a Memory Charm on her. Maybe paint got splashed on her in the struggle. And why would Ginny do something like this anyway? She didn't like Mrs. Norris very much, but this was taking it a bit far. Besides, how could she have forgotten doing something like this? You forgot what you were doing while you were wandering around absent-mindedly not while you were murdering cats and vandalizing school hallways.

But she knew how it would look if she were seen standing there. She imagined what would happen if someone were to walk up and see her there right then. She would stand there, rooted to the spot and trying to look innocent while her eyes begged them to believe she hadn't done this. Would they believe her? She was only a first year, but she did have the paint on her robes and she didn't exactly have the greatest alibi. And if she  _had_  done it, she would still be stranding there, trying to look innocent and beg with her eyes that she hadn't done it. Either way, it would look the same.

That was when she heard voices nearing her — the voices of Harry, Ron and Hermione! She couldn't let Harry see her like this, looking like she had taken up a career as a butcher. It was bad enough that he already undoubtedly thought she was the most bashful little girl in all the world. What would he think of her after seeing  _this_?

It was too much for her to face. Ginny made her decision.

She wrapped her cloak around herself to hide her dirtied clothes and sprinted away from that horrible spot as fast as her legs could carry her. Her heart pounded — she felt like she was doing the wrong thing, but there was no turning back now. Once she had put a fair amount of distance between herself and that terrible scene, she stopped on a higher floor and felt herself start to panic.

What should she do now? Hot tears stung her eyes. She didn't know and she felt so scared and confused. And she couldn't even go to anyone for help. After all, she could hardly claim innocence having run away from the scene of the crime. Now she would have to live with that choice and that meant handling this all on her own. Well, she could be brave, couldn't she? She was in Gryffindor, after all. But Ginny didn't feel very brave at the moment — her body couldn't stop shaking and silent tears were pouring down her face. A small part of her even wished she could be held in her mother's arms as though she were five years old again.

Well, one thing was for sure — she couldn't just remain standing there. If she  _was_  going to hide what had happened to her, she should be trying to think of something to do about the clothes she was wearing. Ginny took off running again, heart thumping uncontrollably, until she found a bathroom. She tried to wash the paint out of her clothes as best she could without taking them off, but it didn't really come out. She was able to get the paint off her trembling hands, but never felt totally confident that she had gotten it out completely. Had her hands always looked that red?

After deciding she had gotten as much of the paint out as she ever would, Ginny ran all the way up to her thankfully deserted dormitory. Then Ginny realized why it must be deserted — everyone was at the Halloween feast right now! But somehow she didn't feel very hungry. With a start, she noticed how dark it was outside and it struck her that she must have lost her memory for  _hours_  this time. There was no denying that this was definitely serious now.

When Ginny threw her cloak onto the floor, she heard a thud. To her surprise, she found Tom's diary was in one of the pockets. What was it doing there? Had she had the diary on her the previous time she lost her memory? She didn't know — but she couldn't remember taking the diary out from under her mattress when she wrote in it that time. She couldn't risk getting the paint on Tom's diary so she quickly stripped off all her clothes, climbed into bed and clutched his book in her arms as though her life depended on it. She curled her body around it and just let herself cry.

She  _needed_  him right now — she didn't want to go through this alone — but she hardly felt like writing. Her hands probably wouldn't have even worked that way at the moment. No, she could write to Tom in the morning — right now she just wanted to feel close to him. She wanted to fall asleep that way, but her sense prevailed. For one thing, her clothes — the evidence which linked her to those ghastly scarlet letters written above Mrs. Norris' stiff body — were still lying at the foot of her bed. She couldn't allow anyone to see them.

She forced herself to leave her bed, wrapping her bedclothes around herself for warmth, and shove the dirty laundry under it with her bare feet. She would figure out something more permanent to do about them later. She then picked up Tom's diary, letting her bedding fall off of her in the process, and squeezed him in her arms one last time. Ginny shivered, feeling very naked. Of course, she  _was_  naked, but she had been undressed many times in her life and she had never felt this naked before.

She stood there awhile, shivering and clutching Tom's diary over her throbbing heart. She just wanted to climb back into bed with him, but knew she couldn't do that. She shoved her diary under her mattress and pulled on her nightdress. Her bed seemed to feel empty without Tom there, so she bunched up her blanket in her arms and hugged it, pretending it was Tom. This somehow made her feel secure and she fell asleep.

* * *

"Ginny, are you okay?" Kimmy asked her the next morning.

"Yeah, I guess," replied Ginny. She still felt a little scared about what had happened to her the previous night, but now the sun was up and that terrible sight seemed to be a million miles away.

"Well, you weren't at the Halloween feast," said Kimmy, "and you were already asleep by the time we all got up here to go to bed."

"I — I got confused," Ginny said anxiously. "I, uh, felt tired and must have fallen asleep without thinking."

"Well, you're sort of lucky in a way," said Kimmy. "Something terrible happened — I guess it must've happened while you were sleeping. I — I don't want to tell you about it, but I suppose you'll have to find out eventually. Mrs. Norris got Petrified."

Fear flooded through Ginny. She had seen the scene with Mrs. Norris alone and now that seemed so long ago. Ginny could have almost believed it was nothing more than a horrible, horrible dream. Kimmy's words changed that — if another person knew about it, it irrevocably made it reality.

"P-Petrified?" asked Ginny as all her terrible emotions from the previous night started to seep back into her.

"Yeah, she was hanging right under this writing that said something about some 'Chamber of Secrets' being opened," continued Kimmy. "It was quite a horrible sight — it'll probably give me nightmares for weeks. But Professor Sprout will be able to cure her."

"So — so she's not dead?" asked Ginny, feeling a little better.

"No, just Petrified," said Kimmy. "Do you have any idea what the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I — I don't know exactly," answered Ginny. "I th-think one of my brothers once told me and Ron about a hidden chamber in the school with a monster inside it. It was probably Charlie."

"It's only after Muggle-borns," Fleeta Fleece said suddenly as she tied her hair up into the large blue hair bow she wore every day. Ginny looked up — Fleeta rarely socialized with the other girls except to make the occasional insulting comment, usually something favorably comparing her appearance to theirs. Ginny normally dealt with this by pretending Fleeta did not exist.

"How would you know that?" Ginny asked her.

"My older brother told me about it," explained Fleeta.

"I didn't know you had a brother," said Kimmy casually. She was still trying to convince Fleeta to be friends with her.

"Well, he's in...  _Hufflepuff_ ," Fleeta muttered in disgust. "I don't like to talk about it."

"But we don't know for sure that the Chamber's really open, r-right?" Ginny asked anxiously. "I mean, someone could've just written that there as a joke, couldn't they?"

"Why do you care?" asked Fleeta. "Aren't you pure-blood?"

"Well, Kimmy's Muggle-born!" Ginny shouted at her. "Wouldn't you care if she got attacked?" Fleeta looked like she was considering it for a moment.

"Not really," she said eventually. "She's kind of annoying."

Ginny desperately wanted to grab Fleeta by the front of her stupid blouse and shake her violently until she cared about something other than clothes and makeup. In fact, it was a temptation which took nearly all of her self-control to resist. And it didn't help that Fleeta had a very smug look on her face almost as though daring Ginny to do just that.

"Lots of other people are Muggle-born, too!" Ginny said hotly. "Don't you care about any of them? Do you  _only_  care about yourself? Why do you think you're so much better than everyone else?"

"You sound just like my mother," said Fleeta. "Which is fitting, seeing how you're both just about as ugly."

"So, you hate your brother and your mother," said Ginny. "Do you even like anyone in your own family?"

"Oh, yes — my father," Fleeta said smugly as though no one could possibly have a better father than her. "He's the most wonderful man in the world," she added as her naturally flushed cheeks turned even redder, "and he loves me more than  _anything_. Of course, he ends up rowing with Mum a lot 'cause she thinks he's spoiling me."

"Imagine that," said Ginny.

* * *

"Dear Tom," Ginny wrote after the other girls had left for breakfast, "I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Someone wrote words near the scene of the crime which said something about some 'Chamber of Secrets' being opened. Tom, I'm really scared!"

" _I have the deepest sympathy for you imaginable. The Chamber of Secrets was opened once when I was at Hogwarts. I was in my fifth year at the time and I was afraid too, so if you feel ashamed of being scared, then you really have no reason to feel that way."_

"I don't feel ashamed. Anyone would be scared if they were in my place!"

" _That's my girl. You understand that it is the control of fear and not the absence of fear which makes you brave. That means you're a true Gryffindor."_

Ginny's agitation started to fade. She felt so proud to know she was a true Gryffindor! This was why she loved Tom so — he always knew how to make her feel better no matter how bad she felt. And she never doubted that he truly meant what he said.

"It's really nice of you to say that," she wrote, "but I haven't even told you the worst of it. After I regained my memory, I found myself right in front of the writing. What if they find out I was there and think I did it? What if I did do it?"

Ginny wasn't sure she should have included that last sentence — she didn't  _really_  think that she'd done it and it was kind of a silly idea anyway. However, she had made the conscious choice to not mention that she thought the writing on the wall looked like it was the same as the paint on her. She knew what she meant to Tom and she didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. Besides, the similarity was probably something she had imagined in her paranoid state.

" _You didn't do it, Ginny. You're just overreacting. It's quite understandable considering what you went through last night. That said, I wouldn't tell anyone what you just told me. When things like this happen, the Ministry of Magic usually tries to find a scapegoat. Whatever you do, do not give them one. You have no idea how much I wish I could hold you right now."_

"I wish you could hold me, too."

This caused Ginny to briefly wonder whether Tom had a body somewhere. And if he had one, what did he look like and where was he? She had never really thought about this before. For a moment, she considered asking Tom about it, but decided against it.

"Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets is?" she wrote. "Fleeta thinks it has a monster which only attacks Muggle-borns. Is that true?"

" _Yes. The Chamber of Secrets was built by Salazar Slytherin when he had a falling out with the other founders over blood purity. Slytherin believed that only pure-bloods should attend Hogwarts and, when Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw wouldn't agree, he left the school, but not before building the Chamber of Secrets. In the Chamber, he housed a monster, which could only be controlled by his heir, to purge the school of all Muggle-borns."_

"That's terrible! Do you think the Chamber's real? Is there any way to stop it?"

" _I don't think there's anything you personally can do about it. As grown up as I know you are, this is truly an adult issue. You should just leave it to the teachers and try not to think about it too much. It'll only disturb you."_

Over the following days, Ginny would have been only too happy to follow Tom's advice, but everyone knew about the attack on Mrs. Norris and wouldn't stop talking about it. Ginny was by now fully convinced that she hadn't done it, but she still hated hearing about it and avoided the corridor with the writing like the plague. She had buried the clothes with the paint on them at the bottom of her trunk as though hoping the stains might disappear if they were kept out of sight.

Everyone knew Ginny was upset, but that was what was expected of her what with her being "too young" and all. Besides, most of the first years were scared, so it was easy to assume she was simply another one of them. But she wasn't — what she felt was very, very different from what anyone else felt. Was it guilt? Maybe or maybe it was just carrying a horrible, dark secret she couldn't bring herself to share with anyone but Tom. Either way, Ginny had no idea what had come over her — she even ended up  _crying_  in front of Percy of all people after she heard a dreadful rumor about Harry being the Heir of Slytherin. But if she didn't do it, shouldn't she tell a trusted teacher like McGonagall about what happened to her? It might be a valuable clue.

But Ginny didn't want anyone to know. Besides, the teachers would probably work out who really did it just fine without her. Then it would all go away and no one would ever know she had been where she was and seen what she'd seen. But why was she so ashamed of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time? It wasn't that she was afraid they would think she had done — well, actually she was, but even aside from that she still didn't want anyone to know she had been there. Of course, it would force her to talk about it and she didn't even want to  _think_  about it.

Through it all, Tom was the only thing keeping her sane. Ginny was now writing to him more than ever before, telling him how terribly alone and confused she felt. Tom continued to assure her that she was thinking straight and had made the right choice keeping her memory lapse a secret. Sometimes she wondered if he was lying about that to make her feel better, but she knew that couldn't be. Tom really cared about her and no matter how badly it made her feel he wouldn't let her make a big mistake like that if it truly was a mistake.

On the morning of November the seventh, the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling perfectly reflected Ginny's mood as well as the gloomy weather. That was the way she felt despite the fact she'd been looking forward to this day for some time — it was the day of the year's first Quidditch match, Gryffindor verses Slytherin. It was hard to believe only a week had passed since Halloween — in contrast to how fast time seemed to run before the attack, every day since it had been a struggle. Ginny had tried to get herself excited about the first Quidditch game so she would be distracted from her feelings about the Chamber of Secrets. She was sure if she could just put it from her mind as Tom suggested, everything would fix itself in time.

As Ginny sat in the stands with the rest of the Gryffindors, she hoped they would yell out the names of all the players so she could applaud loudly when Harry's name was called and, of course, boo Draco Malfoy. Obviously, she would also be cheering for Fred and George, who were Beaters on the team, but not as loudly as she would for Harry.

Harry. It had been so long since she had thought about him. She did still like him, didn't she?

When the Gryffindor team did walk out, she cheered loudly and certainly wasn't the only one to do so. Fleeta Fleece, who seemed to be very bored, was an exception and targeted a superior you-are- _so_ -immature look at Ginny.

But Ginny didn't care what Fleeta Fleece thought. As Ginny compared the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams, she felt wonderful pride for Gryffindor in her heart. The Gryffindor team had a strong Keeper, two of Ginny's brothers, three athletic girls and  _Harry_ , whereas the Slytherins had a bunch of surly boys and Draco Malfoy. It didn't take a genius to see which team was better.

"Are we the green team or the red?" Lorelei Pasiphaë asked suddenly, as usual speaking in almost a mumble. Actually, Lorelei normally didn't speak at all, but when she did it was nearly always a mumble.

"The red," answered Kimmy.

"Oh," said Lorelei, sounding disappointed, "that's a shame — I like the color green."

Lorelei spent most of her time moping around and Kimmy had apparently made it her personal mission to cheer her up. After two months, Kimmy hadn't made any obvious progress, but the two had nonetheless become very close. In fact, Lorelei was such a basket case that Kimmy didn't seem to have time to make any other friendships. The morning after the attack on Mrs. Norris was about the closest she and Ginny had come to having a real conversation with each other since the first day.

Deciding that she didn't need to watch the match with a girl who thought she was immature and a girl who apparently didn't even know Gryffindor's colors, Ginny headed down the stands. She wondered if she might be able to make it onto the team herself one day, but didn't see how that could happen while Harry and the twins were still there. After all, when Harry was around she didn't seem to be able to walk in a straight line, much less play Quidditch well. And as always, Fred and George would tell her that she was "too young" even if she was the same age they were now.

"Hello, Ginny!" a voice cried out enthusiastically. It was Colin Creevey. Although she sat next to him in Charms, Ginny hadn't really talked to him since they had been on the train together.

"Hi," she said, sitting down next to him as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the two teams rose up in the air. Colin had been hugely excited about the game for the past several weeks, so Ginny hoped his excitement would rub off on her.

"I heard your brother is Harry Potter's best friend," he gushed, "and that he actually stayed at your house this summer. Is that true?"

"Yes," said Ginny, not taking her eyes off Harry, who was flying higher up than the others so he could spot the Golden Snitch he was tasked with catching.

"What's it like having Harry Potter living in your  _house_?" asked Colin eagerly. Just as Ginny tried to think of a half-truth so that she wouldn't have to describe the embarrassing reality, a Bludger nearly collided with Harry and brought her back to the game.

"Look, let's talk about this later," she said as George whacked the Bludger towards a Slytherin player. "Why don't we watch the game now?"

However, the Bludger turned back on Harry again. He avoided it and George tried to hit it towards Malfoy.

But the Bludger stayed on Harry and Ginny didn't need all the Gryffindor outcries of rage to know Bludgers weren't supposed to do that.

"Wow, Harry's really good!" said Colin, excitedly snapping pictures with his camera as Harry desperately tried to outfly the dangerous black ball hurtling after him.

"Don't you understand what's happening?" Ginny asked in outrage. "Bludgers aren't supposed to attack just one player — the Slytherins have obviously messed with it so that it'll only go after Harry."

"But Harry can handle it, right?" said Colin as Fred and George took to flying next to Harry in order to protect him. "I mean, he defeated Who-Know-Who  _twice_."

Ginny was about to respond when she felt a drop of water fall on her and realized it had started raining. Even from where she was sitting now, she could hear Fleeta Fleece yelling about her clothes getting wet and declaring that Quidditch was stupid anyway. Meanwhile, with Fred and George flying on either side of him, Harry stood no chance of catching the Snitch. The game couldn't go on like this — they might just as well surrender to Slytherin now. Didn't Madam Hooch or anybody else realize what was going on? Should Ginny try to do something?

The dilemma was solved for her when Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and all the players returned to the ground. Feeling certain that they would fix everything, Ginny decided she ought to relax now.

"I heard you like Harry," Colin put in quickly, garbling his words a little. Ginny gritted her teeth as she blushed on cue. She knew the word about her feelings for Harry had really gotten around, but she hated being reminded of it.

"Yes," Ginny said eventually. "I — he — he's a pretty nice guy." Her face immediately turned bright red.

"I have a picture of him with Professor Lockhart!" Colin said excitedly and with that he held up a photograph which showed Lockhart tugging on Harry's arm, trying to pull him into the picture.

"Wow, you can almost see all of Harry's  _arm_ ," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know," said Colin. "Minos told me how I could get the picture developed so that it  _moves_. Isn't that incredible?" Ginny, having grown up in the wizarding world, didn't find pictures moving very remarkable, but thought it would be rude to point this out.

"Would you like a copy?" Colin asked eagerly. "You know, because you like Harry and all. I tried to get Harry to sign it, but he wouldn't."

"No, you can keep it," said Ginny. "I'm generous that way."

Ginny drew her cloak tightly around herself — it was raining rather hard now — as the game resumed. Fred and George had now abandoned Harry, leaving him to struggle with the rogue Bludger on his own. Ginny couldn't believe it — they hadn't fixed the Bludger at all! Avoiding being hit by the Bludger and searching for the Snitch at the same time forced Harry to make some unconventional moves, causing several people to laugh. Ginny felt very angry. Harry could get seriously injured and they thought it was funny! If Harry  _did_  catch the Snitch in this state, Ginny would give him a standing ovation, which he would deserve every second of it.

"Have you visited Hagrid recently?" asked Colin.

"N-no," stuttered Ginny, feeling a pang of guilt. She hadn't spoken to Hagrid since the time she lost her memory and ended up outside his house. What if he thought she didn't like him anymore?

"He's pretty cool," Colin continued. "I talked with him a couple days ago. He was trying to figure out what killed one of his roosters last month."

"What?" asked Ginny in alarm. It was, after all, last month that she had found herself outside Hagrid's hut covered in rooster feathers.

"I said, 'Hagrid's pretty cool,'" Colin repeated in a louder voice. "'I talked to —'"

"I heard you!" Ginny interrupted. "I — I was just surprised, that's all."

Even though Harry had just been hit by the Bludger, Ginny could only think about what Colin had just told her. It seemed impossible for her to deny that she had killed Hagrid's rooster and then somehow forgotten about it. What was happening to her? Was she going around attacking small animals without her knowledge? Was she losing her mind?

Suddenly, she heard loud noises and screams of shock and awe. Harry was lying on the ground of the stadium and people were gathering around him. Colin was no longer next to Ginny, having bolted out of his seat to run down to Harry.

It was over. Harry had caught the Golden Snitch and Ginny hadn't even been paying attention.

She wanted to cry.


	10. Percy, Penny, and Colin

"Just  _what_  is your problem?" Ginny demanded of Colin as he passed out the pictures he had taken after the game of Harry lying in the mud with his arm broken. It was now late at night in the Gryffindor common room and Harry wasn't back from the hospital wing.

"What d'you mean?" asked Colin brightly.

"Do you think Harry likes you photographing him like that?" continued Ginny. "You know, you're  _exactly_  the type of person Harry doesn't need in his life. He doesn't want someone who worships the ground he walks on — he just wants to be treated like a normal person."

"But he's not a normal person!" insisted Colin. "He's  _Harry Potter_. And I follow him around all the time and he  _never_  seems annoyed."

"I find that hard to believe," said Ginny.

"Well, not  _all_  the time," Colin admitted. "I don't follow him into the bathroom anymore. He got a little annoyed the six times I did that."

"I meant I find it hard to believe he isn't annoyed by that!" she snapped. "He — he doesn't want that kind of attention. He just wants to be loved." Ginny couldn't believe she had just said that out loud! Her face once again decided it was time to signal her embarrassment to everyone in the room.

"Just give her a signed photo, Colin," Ron said lazily. "She's just mad she hasn't got one yet."

"You shut up!" hollered Ginny. "I don't want some picture of Harry. I want Har—" Ginny stopped dead before she could finish  _that_  sentence. By now pretty much everyone knew about her interest in Harry, but she had never come so close to stating it aloud.

"Tell us... more," said Fred, leaning forward expectantly. Ginny felt so angry. Here she was — their little sister feeling terribly exposed in front of a room full of people and their response was to make a mockery of her most private feelings!

Then there was a flash of light and Ginny realized in a moment of absolute horror that Colin had just taken a picture of her like this!

"Wow, you look really mad!" he said cheerfully.

"I hate you!" Ginny yelled at Colin. "Get away from me! I — I never want to see you again in my life!" The Muggle-born boy looked a little taken aback, but didn't move.

Tears filled Ginny's eyes and she couldn't stop them from falling. The next instance she was running up to her dormitory feeling utterly humiliated and angry at the entire world. No one understood how she felt — no one! Then she remembered there  _was_  one person she could talk to. She upped her pace as she dashed upstairs to tell Tom Riddle about what had happened.

* * *

It was very, very cold. Ginny didn't know where she was, but she was shivering like mad, wanting nothing but to escape the intense cold enveloping her. There were goose bumps on her arms and legs, which were both completely exposed to the cold air. Ginny didn't wonder how she had gotten there as the experience had a rather dreamlike quality. Then she noticed that her eyes were closed and opened them.

Ginny saw that she was standing alone in a dark Hogwarts corridor in the dead of night wearing only her nightdress — no wonder she was freezing. Panic instantly consumed her. She had lost her memory again and this time it had put her in real trouble! During the day, this corridor might have been perfectly recognizable and friendly to her, but now it was dark and imposing. The tall suits of armor lined against the walls and the high doorways were mostly hidden in the shadows and darkness so the only thing Ginny could see were large dark shapes. She felt so small.

This couldn't be real — it just couldn't — it was too much! She wanted to pinch herself, but the cold seemed to have glued her arms to her chest. And she was so cold she probably wouldn't have even felt it if she were pinched. As she continued shivering, Ginny wildly thought that she might die here. But that was crazy — there was no way she would get  _that_  cold. She just needed to get out of there, but she couldn't move. She longed desperately to be back in her cozy bed, which she continued to half-think she might wake up to find herself in at any moment.

But that seemed like wishful thinking. Ginny didn't know which way led to her dormitory, but she decided she had to move. Mustering all her strength, she forced herself to take a step forward. It was only after she did this that she felt the cold stone floor on her bare feet. She suddenly became very aware that her loose nightdress was the only thing covering her body and it provided absolutely no protection against the cold. Trying not to think about this, she forced herself to take another step.

It turned out the first few steps were the hardest. Soon she was walking down the corridor and feeling confident that she would somehow get herself out of this living nightmare. She just hoped she was going in the right direction and that she wasn't too far from Gryffindor Tower. However, those hopes were dashed when she reached the door at the end of the corridor and pushed it open with her foot as her arms still didn't want to unclench themselves from her. It led down into the entrance hall — she was not heading in the right direction and she was nowhere near Gryffindor Tower.

It was hopeless — all the progress she had just made was for nothing and her dormitory was so many floors above her. There was no way she could reach it in this state. If there were a way for her to give up, she would have taken it. But there wasn't. The way she saw it, she could either stand there freezing to death or she could freeze to death while making the slow journey up to her nice warm bed. It would take her so long — what if the sun came up before she could get there and everyone saw her like this when they were coming down to breakfast? — but that just meant she should get started sooner rather than later. With a heavy heart, she prepared to turn around.

But at that moment she heard what sounded like a door opening on the ground floor. She didn't want to get her hopes up too much, but it sounded like there just might be a person down there. Ginny knew if she were found out of bed after curfew, she would get in big trouble — the previous year, Harry, Hermione and a boy named Neville Longbottom had lost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points for that and gotten detention in the Forbidden Forrest to boot — but she was so desperate to get out of this that she wouldn't have even cared if it was Filch who found her.

Walking was so difficult that instead of trying to manage the stairs leading down into the entrance hall she threw herself down them. She rolled over the hard marble steps and hit the floor at the bottom —  _hard_. Her body must have been coated in bruises by the time she came to a stop — definitely not one of her better ideas.

After making sure her nightgown was still in place, Ginny rested her head on the hard flagstone floor and wondered gloomily if she might be paralyzed now. Partly to make sure that she wasn't, she forced herself to sit up. Then she awkwardly got to her feet. It wasn't easy — her head was swimming and she had to force herself to stay balanced at first. She headed in the direction from which she heard the sound of the door even though she was now thinking that she had probably imagined it anyway.

This led her into a dark corridor filled with more doors than she cared to count. Just as she started to think desperately about how hopeless her situation was, she heard quiet, friendly voices whispering to each other. She couldn't believe it — she was actually right! There actually  _was_  someone down here and more than one someone by the sound of it. She followed the voices up to one of the doors and slowly pushed it open to find her uptight, proper brother Percy standing in the middle of an empty classroom with a girl prefect.

Ginny stared, almost completely forgetting her own situation. Percy, who had removed his glasses, was holding the other prefect very close and she was clinging onto him as though afraid she would shrivel up if she let go. Ginny somehow instantly knew this was a love scene even though they weren't doing any obvious "boy-girl stuff". Even if it did involve her brother, Ginny couldn't help feeling awed to see such a scene for real. She had read romantic books and seen a few older students kissing in the hallways, but this was different and somehow more real.

That was when Percy and his girlfriend closed their eyes, came together and started to  _kiss_. Feeling mischievous, Ginny chose this moment to make her presence known by loudly clearing her throat. Percy's reaction to this was instantaneous — he leaped away from his girlfriend as though she had something contagious, stumbling backwards so fast he just about fell over. He fumbled with his glasses as he turned to look at Ginny.

"G-G-Ginny?" he asked in surprise. "What — what the bloody  _hell_  are you doing out of bed!" Ginny simply stood there in shock — she had never heard Percy use that kind of language before. Of course, she had never considered the possibility that he might have a girlfriend either, so her perception of him was changing pretty rapidly anyway.

"Who's that little girl?" said Percy's girlfriend sympathetically. "She looks so cold."

"She's just my sister, Penny," Percy explained. "She's in her first year here. Wait, Ginny, is that only your  _nightdress_  you're wearing? Ginny, what are you  _thinking_? Have you lost all your senses?"

"I — I guess I was sleepwalking... sort of," said Ginny awkwardly as Penny the Prefect came forward to wrap her cloak around Ginny.

Ginny didn't think this was really a lie. After all, if it weren't for her previous memory lapses, it would have looked like she was sleepwalking from her point of view. And she didn't even really know what was happening to her anyway, so how could she lie about it?

"I'm not sure I believe you," said Percy, apparently noticing the guilty look on her face. "I'll leave it to the teachers to decide what really happened."

"No, p-please!" Ginny said immediately. "Don't tell anyone!"

"And why shouldn't I if you've got nothing to hide?" he asked superiorly.

"Because then I won't tell Fred and George  _you_  have a  _girlfriend_!" Ginny shot back. Percy's ears turned red.

"Ginny, I forbid you to tell them about that!" he declared.

"Oh,  _that's_  going to stop me," Ginny replied sarcastically.

"So help me, Ginny, if you breath a word of this to them I'll take a hundred points from Gryffindor!" Percy said furiously.

"I'm sure that will impress Professor McGonagall," said Ginny. "She always loves to see her prefects abuse their power. It'll certainly improve your odds of becoming Head Boy next year."

"Professor McGonagall is a Hogwarts teacher," Percy responded. "She understands that when a prefect tells a younger student to do something, they must do it or risk losing house points. Even if she is intent on Gryffindor winning the house cup for a second year and it's a matter of a little sister tattling on her brother, the importance of the prefect system —" He stopped in mid-sentence and for a few moments Ginny was left to hang in suspense, wondering if she had won.

"Ginny, do you realize what you're trying to do here?" he asked eventually. "It's called blackmail and it's wrong."

"I know what it's called," said Ginny.

"All right, fine!" Percy said angrily. "Just tell me why you're out here and I won't mention it to the teachers or Mum." Ginny had her doubts that he was telling the truth, but it was the best she could have hoped for and she considered what she should say.

"I told you, I was sleepwalking," she said eventually.

Percy looked at her. He didn't believe her — she knew it! But she couldn't tell  _Percy_  that she had mysteriously lost her memory four times and hadn't mentioned it to anyone. He would yell at her and then go straight to the teachers, who would probably conclude that she had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Besides, Percy was just about the last person she wanted to know anyway.

"We've got to get her up to your common room," said Penny, breaking the silence.

"In a moment, Penny," said Percy. "Ginny, do I have your word that you won't tell anyway about me and Penny?"

"Yes," said Ginny dully.

"You'd better mean that," he said loudly, "or I'll tell Professor McGonagall about this. You don't want to go roaming around the corridors at night theses days — it's very suspicious."

" _Suspicious?"_  Surely he wasn't suggesting that  _she_  could be the Heir of Slytherin! How could someone who thought she was so "too young" think that or even think that anyone else would think that? Maybe it would make sense for him to think that if he knew about Halloween, but he didn't know about that... did he? Why was Ginny even thinking this? It made no sense at all.

"C'mon, Percy, just get her up to your common room — I'll be waiting for you down here," said Penny flirtatiously, moving towards Percy.

"Penny, please, not in front of Ginny!" he protested. "She's at a very impressionable age."

"You know, I'm right here!" said Ginny, who really hated it when people talked about her like that, especially  _right in front of her_  as though they thought she was "too young" to understand.

Soon afterwards, Percy began carrying Ginny up to Gryffindor Tower. She had had no idea Percy was strong enough to carry her — it was clearly difficult for him, but she was amazed that it was even possible. By the time he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, Ginny was lolling out of consciousness. She wouldn't have been surprised if she had fallen asleep at some point during the journey.

As he sat Ginny down in front of the common room fire, she started to think that maybe she was too hard on Percy. Sure, he was pompous and annoying, but he was still her brother and he loved her. And how could Ginny of all people not sympathize with him for wanting to keep his relationship with Penny a secret from the twins? How often had Ginny desperately wished she could have kept them from finding out about her feelings for Harry?

Apparently, she wasn't the only one feeling a little guilty. Percy was looking down at her, appearing rather contrite.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he said eventually.

"I'm sorry, too," said Ginny. She wasn't sure what exactly she felt sorry for, but she certainly felt sorry. "But our agreement still stands, right?" she added quickly.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm sure you were just sleepwalking because you were so worked about about the Chamber. It was wrong for me to get mad at you. I just didn't want anyone to know about Penny."

"How long have you been with her?" asked Ginny curiously. Percy looked he was about to tell her that it was none of her business, but he was apparently in a generous enough mood to let this slide.

"We met last year," he said shortly. "We've been meeting in secret around the castle for awhile now."

"She's the reason you spent so much time locked up in your room last summer, isn't it?" said Ginny, practically realizing this as she said it.

"Yes," he admitted, "I was writing letters to her."

"Are you going to  _marry_  her?" asked Ginny eagerly. No one in her family had been married during her lifetime and she thought it would be fun to see it happen.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe someday."

"I think you should marry her," said Ginny. While she obviously didn't know Penny that well, she seemed nice and Ginny really liked the idea of seeing the people in her life find love.

Percy was about to respond when there a knock on the Fat Lady's portrait. Looking nonplussed, he climbed into the portrait hole and out of Ginny's sight to see what it was. A moment later, he was leading Penny into the circular common room.

"Penny, what are you doing up here?" her asked in surprise. "I thought we were going to meet again downstairs — I was just about to send Ginny to bed."

"You can forget about that," Penny replied. "There's been another attack and this time it's a student."

"Who is it?" asked Ginny, her heart suddenly racing.

"Don't tell her," Percy said importantly. "She's already disturbed enough."

"I want to know!" yelled Ginny angrily, no longer thinking she was too hard on Percy. He was being so unfair! She absolutely  _needed_  to know that crucial bit of information and he was denying her it because he thought her precious little mind was too delicate to handle it. Maybe it would upset her a little, but she was sure she could handle it just fine.

"Well, she'll find out eventually — he's in her year — and wouldn't she be more disturbed if she were left in suspense?" Penny asked reasonably.

"Well, all right," said Percy reluctantly, "just get it over with."

"It's — it's this boy named Colin Creevey," Penny explained gently. "Do you know him?"

Ginny nodded, making very sure to not look disturbed or upset by this. She didn't even let the fact sink into her brain for fear that it would disconcert her and make her appear "too young".

"Professor McGonagall found him near the hospital wing," Penny continued. "I ran into her when she was heading to Professor Dumbledore for help. She told me to go straight to my dormitory and I honestly think she has the right idea. I'm Muggle-born myself and I can't help but thinking that it could've been me who got Petrified tonight."

Ginny desperately tried to take in these disturbing facts without really thinking about them, or at least not until she was safely out of Percy's sight. But she couldn't help but realize that the corridor she had regained her memory in was near the hospital wing. And it seemed a bit far-fetched that two separate attacks would both just happen to coincide with her losing her memory. Even if she wasn't doing it, there was no denying that she  _was_  connected to it somehow.

"I think that's quite enough," said Percy. "Look how upset Ginny is — she's literally shaking!" Ginny hadn't noticed it until Percy said it, but she was indeed shaking.

Awhile later, Penny left for Ravenclaw Tower, taking her cloak back from Ginny, who was much warmer now. Maybe he was upset that he didn't get to spend any more time with Penny, but whatever the reason Percy decided this was the time to confront Ginny about her recent odd behavior. By now she was feeling much less charitable towards him than before.

"Ginny, I'm really worried about you and so is Mum," Percy told her. "You've been looking pale for almost a month and you haven't been yourself at all. You spend all your time in bed and you hardly speak to anyone. And now you're sleepwalking. You need to tell someone what's the matter."

"I'm fine," said Ginny. "I think I'll go to bed now."

When she reached her dormitory, Ginny almost absent-mindedly pulled off her nightgown, but then she remembered that she was already dressed for bed. It was only once she was safely snuggled beneath her blanket that she let herself really think about what had happened. Earlier that very night, Colin had been cheerfully passing out photos down in the common room, but now he was lying in the hospital wing like a corpse and would remain there for months until the Mandrake Restorative Draught could be brewed. And the last thing Ginny had told Colin was that she hated him and never wanted to see him again! She felt so guilty for saying that now.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. The worst of it was that, at the very least, she was losing her memory and ending up places. She had no idea how it was happening, but the night's events seemed to suggest it could happen at any time. How would she ever be able to bathe again knowing that she could suddenly find herself standing in a corridor somewhere naked, perhaps even still covered in soap? She had really only managed to escape being out after curfew without getting an armload of detentions by pure luck. There was no doubt that these memory lapses could get her in serious trouble even without attacks happening at the same time.

Feeling more scared than ever, Ginny snuggled deeper into her bed. She needed help — she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do. But who could she go to and how would she be able to explain why she didn't mention all this after Halloween? Her father worked at the Ministry and she knew what Tom had said about them searching for a scapegoat was very likely true. If she told someone, it would have to be someone who wouldn't immediately report her — someone who cared about her — someone who wouldn't judge her — someone who was her  _friend_.

Ginny was surprised to realize that she did not have any friends. It was amazing this little fact hadn't even really occurred to her before. Of course, it wasn't like she was a social outcast or anything. She was on good terms with most of her peers — she just wasn't particularly close to anyone. How could that have happened? Part of the reason she had wanted to go to Hogwarts so much was to make some friends of her own. Now she had been there for over two months and she hadn't even tried! Why?

The answer was obvious and inevitable. Tom Riddle had filled that void in her life.

Tom Riddle was someone she had already told about this and she realized that he was, in fact, the only person she could think of — if he really counted as a "person" — who actually fit all her criteria. Maybe she didn't know what to do, but he was pretty smart. He would know what the right thing to do was. She could ask him about it in the morning.

And thus, Ginny snuggled up under her blanket, hoping to fall asleep despite feeling so anxious and restless...


	11. Riddle of the Diary

"It's actually all a hoax," Luna Lovegood declared in the library the next day after the word about Colin's fate had sufficiently spread. "The Ministry of Magic has made it look like the Chamber of Secrets has been opened so they'll have an excuse to sack Dumbledore. And Lockhart is their agent."

"You shut up about  _Professor_  Lockhart!" snapped Fleeta Fleece.

"I'm sorry, Fleeta," said Luna sadly, "I know you like Lockhart, out of pity I suppose, but he only pretends to be a charmless idiot so we won't suspect him. He actually has a devious mind of unparalleled brilliance."

"He does  _not_ , you freak," Fleeta retorted. "You're just trying to steal him from me 'cause you're jealous of our relationship." Ginny snorted — Fleeta thought she was just so great for having managed to become Lockhart's class pet, a position which was desired by many other girls in the school.

"All right," replied Luna, "but don't blame me when he starts torturing you and forcing you to do his dirty work. I just want you to get out of his clutches while you still can."

As Luna went on, explaining how Lockhart had used his peacock feather quill to Petrify Mrs. Norris and Colin, Ginny sat in silence. She was thinking about the way Percy had looked at her that morning and wondering if maybe he  _did_  know about Halloween. What if Percy suspected she was behind it all? What if he was bidding his time until he had enough evidence to use against her? Would he go so far as to report her just to get back at her for ruining his night with Penny? This was all Ginny needed — something new to worry about!

Another new thing for her to worry about was Colin. Were they sure they could bring him back from being Petrified? How did it feel to be Petrified? Was it painful? She hoped he was comatose in that state because imagining him still being conscious while being helplessly frozen for months and months made her feel terrible. She considered that if she was the culprit, he might have even seen her as she Petrified him — and not too long after she had yelled at him. He could be lying frozen in the infirmary right now wondering how much she must hate him to have done that to him. But she really, really didn't hate him. She had just lost her temper and said things she really, really hadn't meant at all.

The possibility that Ginny herself was the Heir of Slytherin was now more real and terrifying than ever. If it was her, was there any way she could stop herself? And why was this happening to her anyway? Had she simply gone mad? That was a scary thought, especially when she considered that being insane might prevent her from realizing it even if she wanted to. Would she have no choice but to hand herself in for the good of everyone else? Should she really even be around other people? What if she lost her memory and attacked someone right then and there? There were so many students in the library and at least some of them must be Muggle-born. Maybe Ginny should be keeping herself away from other people as much as possible.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to get any work done, Ginny gathered her things and began to walk dejectedly up to her dormitory. She wouldn't have even gotten out of bed that morning — it was a Sunday — if it weren't for Lorelei, who had once again decided to become upset about nothing. Kimmy, apparently in possession of infinite patience, always comforted her, but Ginny usually tried to be elsewhere whenever Lorelei became even more distraught than usual. Ginny didn't particularly dislike Lorelei or anything, but she did find her a little annoying — not that she would ever say so, especially in front of someone so sensitive.

Much to Ginny's disappointment, Kimmy and Lorelei were still in the dormitory with Lorelei crying into Kimmy's rosy pullover. Even after more than two months at Hogwarts, Lorelei still looked oddly ill, resembling a rather fey waif, and slightly greenish.

"Do — do you like me more than apples?" she choked. Lorelei tended to worry about very strange things.

"Yes, I like you  _much_  more," Kimmy assured her.

"It's okay if you like apples more," Lorelei said quickly. "They're nice and crunchy and they're very good for you. And they're not worthless like me."

"You're not worthless!" said Kimmy. "You're worth more than a thousand apples!" Lorelei became silent, staring up at Kimmy as though overwhelmed by the sheer number of apples she was worth. Apparently, it took her a few seconds to fully take it in.

"W-what about cauliflower?" she asked eventually.

Ginny sat down on her bed, trying to ignore Kimmy and Lorelei. It was rather ironic that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and a Muggle-born girl was comforting someone else when she really should be the one who was being comforted. Ginny thought of how bad she would feel if Kimmy were attacked next. Kimmy was just as happy and cheerful as Colin had been, but she could just as easily end up Petrified. And how would the constantly overwrought Lorelei get on without Kimmy?

Fortunately for Ginny, Kimmy decided that sunlight would do Lorelei some good and they left together. Ginny felt a bit relieved once they were gone as she didn't think it was a good idea for her to spend a lot of time around someone she knew was Muggle-born. But Kimmy was her dorm mate and Ginny had to sleep in the same room as her every night. If she lost her memory one night and attacked Kimmy, she wouldn't have had to walk any further than the other side of the room!

Ginny was shaking really hard now. She knew that if it was her and she got caught, she would be in big trouble. Normally when Ginny worried about getting in trouble it was a very painless kind of trouble such as getting sent to her room or being given detention. She would hate it, but her life would go on after the punishment ended. This would be a different kind of trouble — an irreversible, ruin-her-life kind of trouble. It went without saying that she would be expelled for starters. Ginny didn't even want to think of where it would go after that.

At that very moment, Percy could have been piecing together the facts to realize it was her and setting her up for that very fate. Maybe he would even mean well, but Ginny doubted that would change the outcome. She needed to get herself out of this mess, but she didn't know what to do. Then she remembered that she had planned to ask Tom about it. She hadn't told him about the latest attack yet since Kimmy and Lorelei had been in the dormitory when Ginny woke up and she couldn't write to Tom in front of them. She pulled his diary out from under her mattress and found a quill.

"Dear Tom," she wrote, "Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me. Is it silly of me to think that? He would never think it was me, would he?"

" _I highly doubt it, but I would prepare myself for that eventuality if I were you. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst, as they say."_

"Tom, I know you really don't think I'm doing it, but there was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad. Each of the last three times I've lost my memory there was an attack. First it was one of Hagrid's roosters, then it was Filch's cat and now it's Colin. It can't be a coincidence. I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!"

" _Calm down, Ginny. A young woman as rational and sensible as yourself could not possibly believe something so outrageous while in her right mind. Clearly you're letting your emotions get the better of you."_

"But Tom," Ginny protested, "what else could possibly be happening to me? It's the only thing that makes sense. What if they catch me attacking someone and throw me out? What if they send me to Azkaban? What if someone dies next time? Oh Tom, I'm so scared and I don't know what to do! I need your help. You're the only one who can get me out of this."

" _I understand what Hogwarts is going through right now is very scary. Fear can warp minds and it's warped yours into believing that you are personally responsible for all this. Think for a moment how ridiculous that would be — you, Ginny Weasley, the Heir of Slytherin. See what I mean? If you think intelligently, you'll see through the tricks your mind is playing on you."_

Ginny thought of how terrified everyone in the castle was by the attacks. This wasn't just affecting her, it was affecting everyone. And was she really that much more upset than any of the other first years? When she thought of it that way, it did seem a little silly of her to think that she  _must_  be the one behind it all. There were so many students in the school and so many more likely perpetrators than an eleven-year-old Gryffindor girl. Could all those lapses in her memory really just be tricks her mind was playing on her? When she thought of the particulars of each case, it didn't seem likely, but Tom had been pretty convinced and he had seemed to know what he was talking about.

Ginny so wanted to believe Tom for it would give her the freedom of knowing it wasn't her responsibility to do something about this, but she couldn't — at least not completely. There was a nagging part of her mind which wouldn't let her regardless of how much she wanted to. It was simply impossible to ignore those memory lapses and now there were attacks happening at the same time! The whole thing was absolutely terrifying and she did not want to face it. She really, really wished she could just shut it out and pretend it wasn't happening.

But it was and what would her parents think if she were caught attacking Muggle-borns? What would  _Harry_  think? Ginny couldn't face that — she simply had to stop this. This brought her right back to her original problem — she had no idea what was happening to her or what to do about it. She needed someone to tell her what to do and she had thought Tom Riddle would be that person, but he didn't think her concern was justified. Well, maybe he was right, but what if he wasn't?

"Tom, I want to believe you," she wrote, "but this has already happened to me four times and now a person has been Petrified! I know you don't think it could be me, but the possibility seems too horrible to ignore. And you're the one who said to hope for the best and prepare for the worst."

" _Ginny, I promise you that you're not doing this. You're just stressed because Hogwarts is going through a difficult time. There's no need to prepare yourself for an impossible eventuality."_

Ginny didn't understand how Tom couldn't see her concern. He thought she was just being too emotional, but she thought she was being quite logical about the whole things or at least as logical as her troubled state of mind would allow her to be. Was he trying to shield her from such terrible thoughts? Surely if he really cared about her he would rather she think those thoughts than risk even the slightest possibility that she was right.

But  _did_  he care about her?

She knew next to nothing about Tom Riddle. She had told him everything there was to know about herself and in comparison he had told her very little about himself. Did she  _really_  know that he could be trusted? Her father had drilled into her head that she was not to trust anything that could think for itself if she couldn't see where it kept its brain for it would surely be full of Dark Magic. Was Tom Riddle's diary such an object? Was this diary, perhaps, the very thing causing her to commit these attacks?

But Tom wouldn't do that to her — he loved her! He understood her every thought and feeling better than anyone she had ever known. In the short time she had been writing to him, he had become her closest friend in the whole world. He would  _never_  betray her like that — how could she even  _think_  something so horrible about someone who loved her so dearly? Besides, the diary wasn't  _really_  thinking for itself. Tom just lived inside it. Or something.

Ginny looked down at the diary resting in her lap. She couldn't exactly just ask Tom Riddle if he was doing this to her. If he was, he would obviously lie. And if he wasn't, she would be so embarrassed and maybe he wouldn't like her anymore. She decided that Tom being behind this was pretty unlikely. So he didn't believe her — that was hardly any reason for her to think it was him. In fact, it was really quite an overreaction on her part.

But she was convinced by now that something bad was happening to her. Maybe Tom Riddle was lying or maybe he was just wrong, but either way she was certain that this was definitely real. And she needed to do something about it. If Tom wouldn't help her, she would have to go to someone else and she couldn't think of anyone else. But she would have to think of someone else and tell them in a hurry — while she still had her senses! And before someone else was Petrified or maybe even  _killed_!

* * *

Over a month later, Ginny still hadn't told anyone. It made her feel so guilty and unclean to know that she might be dangerous and that she was keeping it hidden from everyone, but she just couldn't tell — at least not without knowing that she would be able to prove she hadn't meant it. The fact that she hadn't told anyone made her look compliant, but she couldn't think of a way to explain why she hadn't mentioned this after Halloween — surely that was when someone who truly was innocent would have said something.

Ginny had decided that of the people she could tell, Hermione was easily her best option. The fact that Hermione was Muggle-born made Ginny a little nervous, but Hermione would almost certainly be the most understanding and helpful of anyone she knew. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were probably making their own efforts to work out who the Heir of Slytherin was anyway — maybe they had already found a piece of evidence which proved it couldn't be Ginny. While that would be a huge relief, Ginny couldn't help but think of how embarrassed it would make her feel. Hermione would no doubt think she was a very silly little girl to get so worked up by the idea that she was doing it. After all, Hermione was one person who just might not think Ginny was "too young" — Ginny really did not want to wreck that by being stupid.

Nevertheless, Ginny had tried somewhat half-heartedly to tell Hermione about what was happening to her. It was difficult to catch Hermione on her own as she was nearly always with Harry and Ron. Ginny certainly wasn't going to talk about this in front of  _Harry —_ in fact, she hardly deserved to be in the presence of someone so brave and noble. However, there were some instances she had come across Hermione without Harry and Ron. And Ginny still didn't tell. The words "Hermione, I have to tell you something" were even on the tip of her tongue a few times, but she was always too scared to let them out — scared that Hermione would hate her for having allowed this to go on so long. But the longer she didn't tell, the longer she allowed it to go on for.

And then everything changed during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Ginny was one of the first students to arrive, but she sat alone and kept quiet. She hardly talked to anyone anymore. As usual, Fleeta Fleece had already gone up to the front of the classroom as though she were Professor Lockhart's teaching aide rather than one of his students. Lockhart, of course, allowed this.

"You're my  _favorite_  teacher," Fleeta told him. "All the other teachers have only learned out of books, but you've really been out there and done real things."

"You know, Dumbledore defeated some Dark wizard named Grindlewald," pointed out Minos Lascasas. "It says so on his Chocolate Frog card."

"Yeah, that's  _so_  impressive next to everything Professor Lockhart has done," Fleeta replied sarcastically. "You know," she continued, turning back to Lockhart, "we're really lucky to have you here during this troubled time. I don't see how other kids can be so worried about the Chamber of Secrets when we have  _you_  here to protect us."

_Except you wouldn't be worried about the Chamber anyway_ , thought Ginny bitterly.  _Because you only care about yourself._

"Well, I, uh, certainly hope to catch the Heir of Slytherin before he can attack another student," said Lockhart pompously. "It's only a matter of time, really. He may be powerful, but I'll bring him down — just like that evil sorcerer I met in Algeria."

"You know, you should share your expertise with all the students," said Fleeta suddenly. "I'll bet no one would be worried about the Chamber of Secrets if they knew everything you did. Besides, a lady like me has to be able to defend herself in a dignified manner."

"That's actually not a bad idea!" Lockhart declared. "But I'd need an assistant."

"How about Professor Snape?" Fleeta suggested.

"Severus?" asked Lockhart. "But he's been... unfriendly to me all year."

"Exactly!" said Fleeta craftily. " _And_  he's been giving me detentions all year just for putting on makeup instead of listening to his stupid lectures. You've  _got_  to humiliate him in front of the entire school for both our sakes! There's no way some greasy-haired Potions Master will be any match for the man who defeated the Wagga Wagga Werewolf."

"Yes, yes," said Lockhart, obviously liking this idea, "I'll teach that hook-nosed slimeball a lesson. After my first dueling class, everyone will know who the biggest idiot in the school is."

Pretty soon, the rest of the class filtered in and Lockhart set about reading from one of his books. Ginny could barely put forth the effort to listen as he described how he had saved a fourteen-year-old Russian girl named Dzhinni Uizli from possession by the evil Greek wizard Anton Hert. As always, Fleeta was called upon to play Dzhinni in the reenactments.

"But I don't even know if I did it!" said Fleeta, playing her part with barely concealed smug glee that she was right where so many other girls wished they could be. "There's just this big gap in my memory when my father died! Oh, I don't know what's happening to me! Am I losing my mind?"

Ginny almost fell out of her chair in shock.

"Not to worry, young lady," said Lockhart slyly, "blackouts such as that are a sure sign that you're being possessed by a bad Dark wizard. And I think I know which one — that paragon of heinousness, that champion of injustice, that wicked foe who is the antithesis of goodness, rightness and hourly hair care regimens — Anton Hert!" Fleeta gave an exaggerated gasp.

"Oh, it can't be true!" she declared. "You've got to stop him!"

"Oh, I shall!" said Lockhart earnestly. "I shall avenge you, the innocent young flower of girlhood he has desecrated in his sadistical evil badness! Do not worry!"

So  _that's_  what was happening to Ginny — she was being possessed, no doubt by the real Heir of Slytherin! Her first reaction was guilt — an emotion she was becoming quite accustomed to — for this eliminated any hope she had left that she hadn't attacked Colin and Mrs. Norris. And the worst of it was that this all fit rather well with the idea she had gotten that Tom Riddle was doing this to her. Although even now she was far from certain that he was behind it, she had recently found herself feeling a little guilty after writing to him. But that hadn't stopped her — Tom was her friend and she desperately needed a friend during this scary and confusing time. Besides, he made her feel good and she really needed to feel at least a little good just to get by even if it made her feel guilty afterwards.

Eventually, the bell rang and Lockhart announced their homework was to paint a watercolor depicted his rescue of Dzhinni Uizli. He allowed Fleeta to add in that Dzhinni should be painted to look like her. Ginny was considering giving Dzhinni devil horns.

Nowadays, most of the first years went around the school in packs. Of course, that was only the first years who had friends — or at least friends who didn't live in books and were not possibly taking them over to attack other students. But they wouldn't be so terrified if it weren't for Ginny. First years, seventh years and even professors were scared and it was all her doing — and knowing that scared  _her_. This should have compelled her to tell, but instead it just made her want to hide her secret even deeper down inside herself.

Ginny spent a great deal of time walking around Hogwarts by herself, partly to get a better sense of the castle's layout so that it would be harder for her to get lost again and partly just to keep herself away from other people. Ginny really didn't like being around other people anymore, especially people who were Muggle-born — it made her feel anxious and kind of dirty. She also tried to stop her mind from wandering, hoping it would prevent her from losing her memory. She doubted this would work, but she needed all the help she could get.

Ginny reached the third floor. She had already gone down the corridor to her right, but had she searched it thoroughly enough? If she saw that painting, would she automatically know where she was? She began walking down the hallway, her heart pounding for a reason she could not have explained. She thought she was acting very maturely, striding confidently down the corridor. Watching her, no one would see any evidence of the great war of emotions being waged within her.

Suddenly, what looked like a giant hairy monster leaped out at her from behind the statue of a humpbacked witch!

Ginny screamed and in seconds she was on the floor with the Lockhart books she had been carrying scattered all around her — the dignity she had been carrying herself with a moment ago gone. It had only been out of shock that she had screamed and fallen over as she knew it was one of her twin brothers. They had taken to covering themselves in fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues, somehow always knowing where she would be. She couldn't believe they would take advantage of her when she was in such a fragile state! Not that they really understood what she was going through. If they did, surely even  _they_  would have left her alone.

George, who had been hiding behind the statue as well, stepped out and both of them began laughing and trying to make Ginny smile. Apparently, they thought she found this just as funny as they did, and were trying to convince her to show it. Ginny didn't have to resist. Keeping a very sour look on her face, she gathered her books, got up and began walking away as though nothing had happened.

"Oh c'mon, if you'd only seen your face!" George yelled after her. Ginny acted as though she could not hear.

"Forget it," she heard Fred mutter. "I think she's turning into Percy."

"I thought having  _one_  in the family was enough," George added.

Ginny decided to continue searching the third floor later and moved up to the fourth floor. She looked ahead to see students heading into the library. It was after the last class of the day, so they were conjugating there to study. She paused for a moment as she noticed Hermione was in there alone. Ginny wouldn't be able to tell Hermione her secret with so many people around, but she could easily enough tell Hermione that she wanted to speak to her in private. It wouldn't be that hard and she really had no other choice. After all, she had just found out for certain that it was her — if she didn't do anything now and someone was attacked later, it would really be her fault!

Ginny walked on past the library, her feelings of guilt multiplying in the process. It was just too hard for her! She was eleven years old — she shouldn't have to worry about things like this. She should be worrying about schoolwork, making friends and other things that normal eleven-year-old girls worried about while the teachers took care of horrible, horrible things like this.

Ginny suddenly realized what she was thinking — for the first time in her life she thought she actually  _was_  too young for something. Did she really want to think that? All her life she had railed against being called "too young" — did she really want to admit, even to herself, that maybe her family had been even a little right about that? Besides, what did age have to do with handling this? How would just being older make this any easier for her?

Tears were leaking out of her eyes, but she didn't let herself cry properly. She may have been small and young, but she thought she understood what was happening to her about as well as anyone in her place would. There was no reason she wasn't fully capable of handling it — she just had to face the facts. Of course, the fact that she was being controlled by another person wasn't exactly comforting. In fact, it was hard for her to imagine anything scarier than not having control over her own body.

Was it Tom? It was really, really difficult for Ginny to think that it was. He seemed to truly love and care about her in a way she couldn't imagine being faked. How could she have possibly grown so close to someone who was nothing more than a facade? No one could be  _that_  good a liar. Perhaps, she thought in desperation, he did like her, but was doing this to her anyway. But that made no sense. If he truly loved her, he wouldn't put her through this — it was as simple as that. Tom Riddle was either friend or fiend with no possible middle ground.

Ginny's tears had somehow made their way out of her eyes and onto her face without her noticing. She knew the evidence against Tom Riddle was mounting, but she simply couldn't believe her relationship with the best friend she had ever known was nothing more than a lie. Besides, there was still little more than a bit of circumstantial evidence against Tom anyway — there was no  _real_  proof. However, just to be really, really, extra, extra careful, Ginny decided to write to Tom Riddle only when she felt like she really needed him.

She could manage that, couldn't she? She didn't need some invisible friend to get her through every day. The other first years managed just fine without one and how was she any different than they were? Was she somehow weaker than everyone else — like her family thought she was? No, she didn't need Tom Riddle and she was perfectly capable of doing without him.

Wasn't she?


	12. The Enemy Within

That night Ginny found it really, really hard to resist writing to Tom Riddle. Every night she wrote to Tom, telling him how her day went — it made her feel like she wasn't going through it all alone. But now she did have to go through it all alone. The problem was that she was accustomed to writing to Tom until she got too tired to write properly and fell asleep, but not before making sure the diary was hidden where Fleeta Fleece wouldn't notice it. It had become Ginny's routine and she couldn't get to sleep without it. It was like she was under a spell — and perhaps she was.

Nevertheless, Ginny had succeeded. She had spent most of the night lying wide-awake in bed, bored out of her mind and desperately yearning for the diary if only to give herself something to do. But she had not given in and that was a victory even if it meant she would now have to go to her classes that day with maybe a couple hours of sleep. And she would have to go through this the next night. And the night after that. Maybe it would get easier...

But was she  _really_  sure that Tom Riddle was the one was possessing her? She should really be completely sure before putting herself through this torture based on a guess. But it wasn't like she wasn't writing to him again at all — she was just reducing it to when she thought she really needed him and that seemed a suitable precaution given the circumstances. After all, she couldn't think of anything else that might be causing this to happen to her — at least nothing else she was doing.

But if she couldn't get to sleep without him and she would really rather not take her first year over again, wouldn't that count as a situation where she  _did_  need him? Ginny decided not, ignoring the blindingly bright sunlight hitting her tired eyes.

"Good morning, Ginny," said Percy brightly as she coasted dazedly across the common room. "You look tired — did you not get a good night's sleep?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered honestly.

"Well, that's too bad," Percy told her. "But I think I can fix that." He gestured to Fred and George and they stepped forward, both looking quasi-contrite.

"Gin," said George, "we're sorry for jumping out at you everywhere." Ginny had so much on her mind that it took her a few seconds to figure out what he was talking about.

"Oh… thanks," she said eventually. Fred and George had never apologized for anything without being coerced, so this was clearly Percy's doing.

"I hope your nightmares will stop now," said Percy cheerfully.

"What nightmares?" asked Ginny. She  _had_  been having bad dreams since the attack on Mrs. Norris, which had only increased in frequency and unpleasantness since then, but she didn't recall telling anyone but Tom Riddle about them.

"A girl in your dormitory told me you were talking in your sleep," Percy explained. "She said it sounded like you were having nightmares."

"What girl?" asked Ginny.

"Uh, Miss Fleece, I believe."

" _Fleeta Fleece_ ," Ginny repeated in outrage. "That's who you're getting your information from! That girl's an absolute bitch!"

"Ginny, language!" Percy scolded. "What d'you think your mother would think if she were here? Do you think  _she_  would ever use a word like 'bitch'?"

"No," Ginny admitted.

* * *

Ginny had no idea how she managed her classes that day. She did have History of Magic, so she was able to make up at least some sleep then. As she headed to dinner, she encountered Fleeta Fleece standing in the entrance hall with a smug smile plastered on her face. Scowls and smug smiles seemed to be the only shapes Fleeta's mouth was capable of forming. She had clearly been waiting there for Ginny.

"They're starting a Dueling Club," said Fleeta in her usual haughty voice, pointing at the notice board. "You remember that that was  _my_  idea, right? I suggested it to Professor Lockhart yesterday and now it's actually happening — all thanks to my  _important_  relationship with the good professor. I can't wait to see Professor Lockhart fight for my honor. Snape will never know what hit him. I only hope Professor Lockhart will mention my name so that the whole school will know who he did it for."

"Sod off," Ginny muttered as she walked into the Great Hall. She might have been able to come up with a cleverer retort had she not felt so tired.

This couldn't go on. For starters, not writing in the diary was really just a precaution — she still needed to tell someone what was happening to her. After all, if it wasn't Tom Riddle who was behind this then she was putting herself through this for nothing.

Hermione was seated at the Gryffindor table talking to Harry and Ron about joining the Dueling Club. Ginny should have talked to her yesterday when she was alone in the library. But Ginny could always talk to her tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. Or the day after that. It was easy to see that Ginny could end up putting it off forever. Eventually, she would have to just bite the bezoar and do it. But not today — not when Hermione was sitting right there with  _Harry_.

As was now usual, Ginny made a token effort to eat, but was too depressed to really do any more than nibble a bit. She didn't seem to care about much of anything anymore. She hadn't thought about Harry for a long time now except for generally not wanting to be around him, mainly out of shame. Hufflepuff had managed a surprise victory over Ravenclaw in the latest Quidditch match and she could barely put forth the effort to care. But the part which really hurt her, enough to make her cry if she let herself think about it, was the fact that she did not even care that she was at Hogwarts. She had spent her entire life longing to be old enough for Hogwarts and now she was there and she was miserable. And it was her fault.

Learning how to duel was another thing that Ginny might have wanted to do had she not felt so terrible. But she did and she would much rather hide herself away in a dark corner than do something fun like that. Besides, if she was going to be Petrifying more people the last thing she needed was to be able to duel with them too. Thus Ginny decided that she would be going to bed early. There was no reason not to, really — she wasn't attending the Dueling Club and she might as well take advantage of being sleepy enough to nod off without the diary.

Ginny fell asleep easily. Fleeta, eager for everyone to see Lockhart wipe the floor with Snape on her behalf, had persuaded Kimmy to join the Dueling Club as well. Since Lorelei Pasiphaë followed Kimmy around everywhere like a loyal puppy, this left Ginny with the dormitory to herself. And Ginny thought Kimmy should rightly go anyway, being Muggle-born and all.

* * *

Ginny woke up so early the next day that it was still dark out. Knowing that this would be the only time she could do her homework if she continued on this schedule, Ginny journeyed down to the common room to work on the Transfiguration essay McGonagall had assigned. At least it gave her something to do other than write in the diary. Perhaps, she thought gloomily, this schedule suited her. She was trying to keep herself away from other people and this way she would only encounter anyone else at meals and classes. She hated the idea of so completely isolating herself, but perhaps it would be for her own good. And everyone else's.

When the dawn came, it brought terrible news. It turned out the Dueling Club which Ginny had slept through had been a complete fiasco. Ginny wouldn't have even cared how the Dueling Club went if it weren't for the catastrophe that had occurred there — a catastrophe quite apart from Lockhart and Snape's demonstration duel not going the way Fleeta imagined. Not to Ginny's great surprise, Snape had made a fool out of a Lockhart with a simple Disarming Charm, leaving Fleeta on the one hand angry Lockhart had failed her and on the other unwilling to admit she was wrong about him. It was a situation Ginny would have milked for all it was worth, it being the perfect chance for revenge against the girl who showered Ginny with rude comments about her being poor and ugly, but she threw away that golden opportunity. Because of the real catastrophe that had happened at the Dueling Club.

"The Malfoy boy conjured a snake while dueling with Harry Potter," Luna Lovegood, or "Loony" Lovegood as she was becoming known, told Ginny during breakfast in the Great Hall, "and Harry seemed to speak Parseltongue to it. Some people seem to think he's the Heir of Slytherin now, but they didn't consider Lockhart hit the snake with a mysterious spell first. Lockhart clearly used this spell to take control of Harry and the snake at once."

"You think Lockhart can do that?" asked Ginny, trying not to sound too derisive.

"Obviously," said Luna. "How else could he control the secret army of Wrackspurts he uses to make students' brains go fuzzy when they're around him? I do wonder why so many more girls than boys seem to be affected though."

Parseltongue was (unjustly, in Ginny's opinion) considered the mark of a Dark wizard and Salazar Slytherin's ability to speak to snakes was well known. It was already rumored that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin and this incident all but proved it. But as Ron had told Ginny earlier up in the common room, Harry hadn't even known he was a Parselmouth — he had just been trying to keep the snake away from Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Muggle-born boy whom Ginny had seen around the castle a few times. Most of the school would never believe that, of course. They would believe that Harry had set the snake on Justin and would probably be Petrifying him shortly.

"Why if it isn't the  _Weasley_  girl and some werido friend of hers," drawled Draco Malfoy as he approached the scene. "Still in love with Potter now with everyone hating him?"

"Go away," said Ginny, meaning to make this sound less timid than it came out.

"Harry Potter's not really a Parselmouth," said Luna confidently. "Lockhart just possessed him. He's secretly working for the Ministry trying to get Dumbledore fired."

"Oh, right," laughed Malfoy. "Like the Ministry would appoint a spy as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to get rid of Dumbledore. I don't think they even  _need_  an excuse to throw out that old codger. Professor Snape should just replace him."

"Oh, and how would he do that?" asked Ginny. "Just kill Dumbledore and take over as headmaster?" Malfoy smirked.

"You and I both know that your  _saintly_  boyfriend could never be the Heir of Slytherin," he said, "but it sure looks that way, doesn't it? He and his friends were the first on the scene after Mrs. Norris was Petrified and now he's speaking Parseltongue. If you ask me, he'll be expelled in a week."

Not much later, Ginny stepped into her empty dormitory feeling so terrible that she wanted to cry. Harry could get expelled for what she'd done!  _Harry!_  That was almost worse than  _her_  being expelled. No, it was  _definitely_  worse since she was actually guilty. Well, a little guilty, but she was certainly a lot more guilty than Harry was. He was innocent and undefiled in a way which she was not — at least not anymore.

Poor, poor Harry had been through so much; losing his parents, living with awful Muggles, facing You-Know-Who a second time and now this. He might even be feeling exactly the way Ginny had been except he didn't deserve it. She did, but he most certainly didn't and unlike her he also had to deal with the whole school knowing. The warm feelings which made her want to comfort Harry swiftly flowed into her for the first time in weeks, but now they were tainted by the knowledge that it was her fault he was in this position. And that she could stop it by just telling, but didn't.

Ginny could no longer allow this to go on. She couldn't put Harry —  _her_  Harry — through this. He didn't deserve it like she did. She wanted nothing more than to be held in his arms, crying into his shoulder while she confessed everything to him. Maybe he would feel sorry for her even though she had ruined his life. Okay, maybe she wasn't going to tell Harry, but she did decide for sure that she  _would_  be telling someone that very day — whatever the cost, she would not put it off a single day longer. For better or worse, all this would finally be over for good by the time the sun set.

Still standing in the entrance to her dormitory, Ginny surveyed the room as she prepared to leave. It was still morning outside so she had plenty of time to work up the necessary courage. Her eyes rested on her bed where Tom Riddle's diary was hidden. Harry being a Parselmouth was clearly the kind of emergency situation which she had decided to reserve Tom for. But that didn't mean she  _had_  to write to him — just that she could. And she didn't think that she would. She had gone over a full day without him and she was doing okay so far. And if after she told her secret it turned out that he wasn't causing this to happen to her then she could write to him all she wanted and without guilt.

Then the enormity of what Ginny was planning to do hit her. So many students hated Harry for supposedly being the Heir of Slytherin and Ginny would be putting herself in his place  _willingly_. Tears formed in her eyes — she didn't want everyone to hate her! But better her than Harry since she was at least the culprit — against her will, of course, but Harry hadn't done anything at all. She took a deep breath and wiped her tears. This was going to be very, very hard for her, but she was determined and she was going to be brave — as brave as she could be. She knew she had to do this.

Without even really consciously deciding to, Ginny began walking towards her bed. She would be writing to Tom just a little first. She didn't really need to, but she wanted to. Even with her suspicions that Tom was doing this to her, she couldn't help but feel really loved by him. And she really wanted to feel loved — especially now seeing how she would probably be hated by the whole school very shortly. Tom loved her unconditionally and that was exactly the kind of love she needed right now.

Ginny pulled out the diary, climbed onto her bed and sat atop it with her knees bent upwards. She still had her shoes on, but that didn't matter — she wouldn't be there very long anyway. After all, her first class of the day would be starting soon. She propped the diary up against her legs and took a quill resting on her bedside table.

"Tom, I'm going to do it," she wrote. "I've decided I'm going to tell them what's happening to me."

" _Ginny, don't! They'll expel you and you'll never become a proper witch. You could end up living on the streets, alone and destitute. Oh please Ginny, I love you too much to bear the thought of you throwing your life away."_

These words gave Ginny pause, but when she thought of everything Harry had been through they didn't change her mind. They did scare her a little, but oddly she found herself becoming a little excited knowing that the end of this nightmare was so near. And wasn't there at least a little hope that she wouldn't be expelled?

"I don't have a choice," she wrote back. "Harry spoke Parseltongue to a snake yesterday and now everyone thinks he's the Heir of Slytherin! If I don't say anything he might be expelled. I don't want Harry to get expelled!"

" _That's very selfless of you, Ginny, but you must think about yourself. Think of the dreams you're throwing away. Think of how your family will take this."_

"They would want me to tell," wrote Ginny, feeling more confident than ever that she was making the right choice. "And I'm sure they'll forgive me if they see how sorry I am."

" _No, Ginny, you mustn't do that to yourself. I can't allow that to happen."_

* * *

Ginny's reflection caught her eye, surprising her slightly. She looked her face over as though making sure everything was in place. There was her fiery hair — slightly disheveled, but acceptable — brown eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and all those annoying freckles. It was her, the young girl she had always been, but somehow it didn't look like her at all — or at least not her as she remembered herself. The expression on her face was one of numbed shock and horror. Prior to the opening of the Chamber, her face had probably not formed such an expression once in her entire life.

Wait, where was she?

Reality smacked Ginny in the face faster than she could blink. She had lost her memory again! That meant someone must be attacked! Ginny hoped with all her heart that it wasn't Kimmy or Hermione. Or Penny — that would be a good way to make Percy lose any qualms he might have about handing Ginny in. Ginny slowly realized that she was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom of all places. It was an odd place — she could even hear a strange bubbling sound coming from a locked stall as though a potion were brewing in there. And then Ginny noticed that her clothes were covered in snow and, once again, rooster feathers.

Ginny was so horrified that she couldn't have made a sound if she had wanted to. She had plainly been out in the show and the clothes she was wearing weren't exactly appropriate for the blizzard billowing outside the castle, so she had to think that she was lucky not to have frozen to death out there. Almost convulsively, she brushed the snow and feathers off herself. As she watched the scarlet feathers settle, she thought of what a pathetic attempt this was to brush the guilt off of herself. She had killed another one of Hagrid's roosters and brushing the evidence off herself wouldn't change that. Knowing that nothing more could be done, she walked hurriedly out of the bathroom.

She quickly headed far away from the horrible spot where this had all started, taking great care to not look at the writing on the wall. She felt worse as she came to remember how close she had come to ending this once and for all. Well, those plans were dead now — she couldn't possibly tell her secret right after there had been another attack. In fact, she could never tell anyone now. This time she had known what she doing and that made her truly guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty as she would have been had she done it on purpose! She just hated herself...

Realizing she didn't have anywhere she planned to go, Ginny stopped in a hallway a good distance away from the bathroom. She was so scared, but had no idea what to do! She just stood there, thinking and shaking, when Professor Snape swept in through a doorway.

"There you are, Miss Weasley," he said snidely. "Thought you would be classy cutting your morning Potions class, did you? That's twenty points you've lost Gryffindor."

Ginny bowed her head in shame. Of course — her Potions class had been about to start when she lost her memory so she had clearly ended up cutting it against her will — such things hardly seemed to matter anymore. In fact, nothing really seemed to matter. Suddenly, Ginny looked up.

"Professor, has there been another attack?" she asked. Snape's lip curled and Ginny was sure he was about to take more points, but he didn't.

"I don't suppose it's any of your concern, but yes there has," he said. "Justin Finch-Fletchley has been Petrified and... something has been done to Nearly Headless Nick. They were found together on the fifth floor with Harry Potter standing over them. He's been sent up to Professor Dumbledore's office."

Clearly taking great pleasure in how much these words disturbed her, Snape strode away. Not only had there been an attack, there had been a  _double_  attack — and somehow a  _ghost_  had been affected. And  _Harry_  had been discovered at the scene of the crime —  _again_  — and after it was known he could speak Parseltongue. He was going to be expelled — Ginny knew it! Why else would he be sent up to Dumbledore's office? She had never even heard of anyone being sent to the headmaster's office before or even a clue as to where it might be located.

And that was when Ginny had an epiphany.  _Every single time_  she had lost her memory the last thing she could remember was writing in Tom Riddle's diary! The first time she had only ended up partway down the stairs from her dormitory — Ginny supposed that was the result of Tom Riddle trying to take control of her before he was strong enough — but every other time there had been an attack. There could be no doubt now that Tom Riddle was behind this. But why would he do this to her? Didn't he like being her friend? It was really, really difficult for Ginny to consider the possibility that their friendship was a lie — it just  _couldn't_  be.

But it probably was.

Feeling worse than ever, Ginny set off for Gryffindor Tower. She was probably supposed to be in some class right now, but she couldn't even be bothered remembering what it might be. Besides, she had probably just thrown away any hope she had that she wasn't going to be expelled. What was the point of going to classes if she was going to end up getting expelled anyway?

Once she was in her dormitory, Ginny found that Tom Riddle's diary had once again ended up on her person — just as it had the time Mrs. Norris was attacked and probably the time before that as well. She did know the diary couldn't have been with her the time she attacked Colin as she had only been wearing her nightdress and it didn't have any pockets, but that seemed like a small consolation.

Ginny angrily threw the diary onto her bed. Why had it not occurred to her earlier that Tom Riddle might be doing this to her? So many clues had been there and she had completely missed them all! How could she have been so incredibly stupid?

Yet even as she was thinking this, Ginny's arms were just aching to wrap themselves tightly around Tom's diary. In spite of everything, she  _still_  loved him! That made no sense at all. What kind of twisted irony was it that she was yearning to be consoled by the person who had caused her the very hurt she wanted him to alleviate? And who would hurt her again if she gave in.

In a moment of surprising clarity, Ginny realized what she must do. It was simple and obvious — she had to never, ever write in that horrid book ever again! That was her ticket to freedom and it would save the remaining Muggle-borns in the school. But it wouldn't save Harry — he was probably expelled already and about to spend the rest of his life with his horrible Muggle relatives. She had failed to do the right thing and now it was too late. What would be the point of not writing in the diary now? What was the point of anything anymore?

Ginny kicked her shoes off, climbed into her bed and began to write to Tom about what had just happened to her.


	13. Secrets

It turned out that Harry wasn't expelled after all. In fact, through some miracle, Dumbledore had let him go without taking a single point from Gryffindor.

In the meantime, Ginny had fallen back into writing in the diary. She knew it was wrong and that she was only hurting herself as well as everyone else, but she just couldn't stop herself. She had vowed to herself more times than she could count that she would never write to Tom Riddle ever again, but she could never resist it for very long. He provided the very little joy left in her life — and that wasn't really so much joy as it was slightly eased pain.

As long as the attacks continued, Ginny simply couldn't get by without Tom Riddle's kind words assuring her that she wasn't going through this all alone. But the attacks would only continue so long as she wrote to him. And thus she was trapped in a vicious cycle. She knew she must be a bad person for continuing to write to him, but Tom Riddle was the only friend she had in the scary, confusing life she now led. Writing to him was wrong — so wrong its wrongness made her head spin — but the alternative was to embrace absolute misery and loneliness.

What would become of her? Not too long ago, Ginny had dreamed excitedly about what her future might hold, but now she couldn't see beyond the mess she had fallen into. She didn't know if or perhaps when she would be expelled. What if someone died in the next attack? Would they send her straight to Azkaban? She was only eleven, but if someone died and she'd known writing in the diary could potentially cause deaths, wouldn't that make her a murderer? And surely anyone who committed murder would be sent to Azkaban. Her father had once visited the wizarding prison on Ministry business and said it was the most awful place he had ever been.

As horrible as she knew Azkaban must be, Ginny  _would_  rather go there than just be expelled if it meant she would have to move back to the Burrow forever — and look at her parents' faces every day knowing that she had shamed them beyond belief. There was no way whatever torture existed within Azkaban could be worse than that. Ginny considered that she might even commit suicide if that happened. After all, what would she have to live for at that point? Tom Riddle told her there was nothing worse than death, but Ginny quite disagreed.

With most of the students understandably impatient to leave school for the Christmas holidays, it was the fear of that kind of shame which made Ginny decide to remain at Hogwarts with her brothers, Harry, and Hermione. Even with her parents not knowing what she'd done, there was just no way she could bring herself to face them. Maybe if none of this had happened, Ginny would have stayed at Hogwarts anyway for the fun of it, but now she couldn't even imagine herself being happy. Any recollection she had of feeling an emotion other than despair, guilt, fear, or loneliness felt like it was from a really, really long time ago.

Fleeta Fleece and Kimmy Seong were returning home, but Lorelei's father was apparently "too busy" to have her. This meant it fell to Ginny to "take care of" Lorelei while Kimmy was away. The day the rest of the students left, Ginny had to take back everything she had ever thought about Kimmy treating Lorelei too much like a baby. Lorelei truly acted like a baby, first refusing to let go of Kimmy when they hugged goodbye and then throwing a temper-tantrum quite inappropriate for someone who was eleven years old.

" _Please_ , let me come with you!" she begged tearfully. "I'll be very quiet — you won't even know I'm there — I won't even talk — I'll do  _anything_!"

"Bye," said Kimmy, appearing oblivious to Lorelei's stare-generating outburst, as she waved and boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"NO!" Lorelei shouted desperately as Ginny held her back to prevent her from running onto the train. "Please, stay! Or let me go with you! I'll be very, very good! You won't even know I'm there! I won't even make a sound at all! Just let me come!"

As Ginny had anticipated, Lorelei was an inconsolable nightmare. She was driven to tears daily, perhaps hourly, by the most inane things and expected Ginny to take this nonsense seriously. Being quite depressed herself, Ginny just went through the motions of comforting her, leaving neither of them very happy. You had to wonder how on earth Lorelei's brain worked (or didn't work) and what had possessed Kimmy to put up with her.

* * *

Christmas.

It was Christmas Day, but Ginny didn't feel at all Christmasy — in fact, it felt to her like it was just another day of the week. While the castle had been beautifully decorated, just as her home had always been, it all felt superficial this year. You only had so many Christmases in your life, so you couldn't afford to waste any of them. On Christmas you were supposed to feel happy and she was so, so far from happy. And then she thought about how this was her first Christmas at Hogwarts and felt worse.

On every previous Christmas she could remember, Ginny had leaped eagerly out of bed and run downstairs to open the meager number of presents her family could afford for her. This year she lay in bed, looking at the small pile of presents her parents had sent her and not feeling the slightest urge to see what they might be. They would be worthless things anyway, such as one of the infamous Weasley jumpers. Ginny thought sadly of how she might have reacted if she were told just three months ago that she would feel too depressed to get out of bed on Christmas morning. Back then, Ginny probably wouldn't have even thought it was possible to be that sad.

Eventually, she at least forced herself to sit up. Lorelei was thankfully still asleep, lying motionless in her bed wearing a frilly pink nightgown which horribly clashed with her odd green-tinted skin. Her peaceful slumber belied how annoying she could be when she was awake. In fact, she had an unfortunate tendency to wake Ginny up in the middle of the night because she had had a bad dream, which naturally needed to be described in great detail, and was now "scared".

Ginny brought her legs into her chest and hugged them, feeling so lonely. It was moments like this when she ended up writing to Tom Riddle. She just wanted to not feel so alone and he really, really loved her. No, he didn't love her at all! What was she thinking? She knew what he was doing to her. Or did she? No, she did! He was liar and a manipulator and she knew it! There was no other explanation for what was happening to her. But what if she had made a terrible mistake and was shunning a perfectly innocent friend? Everyone needed a friend now and then…

_No!_  Ginny thought fiercely.  _No, I'm not going to give in!_

She really wanted to take out the diary, just to hug it again, but wasn't even going to let herself do that much. She knew that she would end up writing in it if she did that, having fallen for that twice already. She left her bed and stood next to it, shivering a little. It would be so incredibly easy for her to reach under her mattress and pull out the diary. Lorelei was conveniently asleep and for extra privacy Ginny could write behind the curtains of her four-poster bed. There was no one there to stop her and no one would ever know. It would be so easy to do it.

She had to get out of there. She knew she couldn't resist Tom Riddle for very long now. She looked around the room, considering getting dressed quickly, but decided against it. It would be okay for her to remain in her nightdress if she didn't leave the Gryffindor common room. And she needed to get out of the diary's proximity as fast as possible! Her heart racing, she walked out onto the girls' staircase.

_Atta girl, Ginny_ , she thought.  _You're doing the right thing and you know it. Nobody else may know what a good thing you just did by resisting using the diary that time, but they don't need to know. You don't need a reward for doing the right thing. Just act normally and eventually you won't be tempted to use the diary at all and then everything will be all right again. Shouldn't that be enough of an award for you?_

Ginny continued down into the common room, feeling a little better, but not much. She had resisted writing to Tom Riddle that one time, but there were many other times she had given in. Would she be able to resist him for long this time? Well, she would just have to try, wouldn't she? If she took it one hour, one day, one week at a time, maybe she could manage to escape him. How long would she have to resist writing to Tom Riddle before she stopped feeling so guilty?

Ginny sat down in front of the common room fire, staring idly into it. It was still early enough in the morning that the sun was barely up. By the standards of the past few weeks, this was shaping up to be a fairly good day — but it was still Christmas and Christmas was supposed to be so much better than this. As Ginny thought back on the previous Christmases of her life, tears began welling up in her eyes. You were supposed to be so much happier than this on Christmas...

"Hey, Gin," George's voice said suddenly.

Ginny didn't turn around. She was rather angry with Fred and George as they had begun teasing Harry about being the Heir of Slytherin. Hermione would fall in love with Draco Malfoy before Fred and George Weasley took something seriously!

"You know what today is?" Fred's voice asked. Ginny couldn't bring herself to say it was Christmas.

"The twenty-fifth of December," she answered dully. There was a long pause —

"You  _do_  know that means it's Christmas, right?" George asked her.

"Of course," she replied, "I'm just not in the mood for Christmas right now."

"Well, that's okay," Fred joked, "there'll be another one next year."

"Go  _away_ ," said Ginny, still refusing to look at them. She put her tear-stained face in her hands.

_Please, go away…_

"I reckon Percy's right — she isn't herself."

"But if she isn't herself, then who is she?"

"Let's find out."

Ginny heard their footsteps approaching her, but didn't look up — maybe this  _was_  going to be a bad day after all.

"Leave her alone," Hermione's voice said suddenly. Ginny looked up to see Hermione enter the common room through the portrait hole. Before she could even think  _Finally someone understands_ , Hermione added "I'll talk to her."

"I don't want to talk," said Ginny miserably.

"C'mon, this won't take long," Hermione assured her. "Let's just go up to your dormitory so we'll have some privacy." Ginny followed her up the girls' staircase.

"How about your dormitory?" Ginny suggested. "There's a girl in mine who's asleep and I don't want to wake her."

"Okay," Hermione agreed and with that she led Ginny into the second-year girls' dormitory. It looked exactly like the one Ginny shared with Fleeta, Kimmy and Lorelei except that the personal belongings were different. Ginny didn't know anything about Hermione's dorm mates, but the room gave her the impression they were probably quite like Fleeta.

As she and Hermione sat down on two separate beds so they were facing each other, Ginny realized that this was the perfect opportunity to tell Hermione her secret. She  _had_  decided that she couldn't tell anyone after the last attack, but maybe that was still the only way out of this. Maybe Hermione would still help her. Maybe she would understand.

_Go on_ , Ginny told herself,  _tell her. C'mon, Ginny, be brave. Hermione won't hate you, she'll understand. She can fix everything. C'mon, you can do this — it's easy! You just have to tell her. You_ _know it's the right thing to do. Go on, Ginny just say it — right now! One, two, three, now!_

Ginny said nothing.

"Ginny, I have to tell you something," said Hermione.

"What?" asked Ginny, hoping this would be over quickly so she could go back to hating her life.

"Well..." Hermione continued, "I don't really  _have_  to, I suppose, but I want to. I mean, well..." She took a deep breath. "Ginny, this may be the last day you have to worry about the Chamber of Secrets." Hermione was taken aback the instant she finished saying this, having clearly not expected that these words would make Ginny look scared and horrified.

"W-what do you mean?" asked Ginny.

"Well, it's a long story," said Hermione hastily, "but Harry, Ron, and I think we have it all worked out." Ginny's heart stopped.  _All worked out?_  Did they know it was her? She actually hoped that they did as Hermione didn't seem to be hating her and it would save Ginny the trouble of explaining her situation. And at the moment there was nothing Ginny wanted more in the world than an ally who knew what was happening to her, didn't hate her, and wouldn't make her attack more people.

"Why — why are you telling me this?" she asked eventually.

"Well, you've just been so worried about the Chamber," Hermione explained. "I wanted to make you feel better." Ginny's heart sank — they didn't know it was her after all.

"I see," she said. Ginny felt quite anxious now. What were Harry, Ron, and Hermione going to be doing? Would they find out it was her? Would they hate her?

"Are you getting dressed?" asked Hermione as she got up. "Breakfast should be soon."

"Oh... I guess," said Ginny, glancing down at herself. She had temporarily forgotten she was still wearing her nightgown.

"I'd better go now," said Hermione. "I have to wake Harry and Ron to tell them that the, um, uh, thing I have to tell them about is ready." And with that she picked up a pair of presents addressed to Harry and Ron and left the room rather quickly.

Ginny remained in Hermione's dormitory for awhile after that, thinking. When she did head back down to her own dormitory, she continued to wonder what Harry, Ron, and Hermione were up to. Was there any way they could find out it was Ginny? And more importantly, if they did, how would they take it?

Ginny stepped back into her dormitory to get dressed. Lorelei was now awake, sitting on her bed and staring at the wall as though she had been stunned. Ginny started to silently step backwards out of the room, hoping Lorelei wouldn't notice her, but at the last moment she turned to look at Ginny with wide eyes.

"Hi…" Ginny said awkwardly, putting on a phony smile. "Happy Christmas, Lorelei."

"Happy Christmas, uh... what's your name, again?" Lorelei told the wall behind Ginny in something barely above a whisper.

"You don't remember my  _name_?" asked Ginny incredulously. "We've only shared a dormitory for nearly four months!"

"I'm sorry," said Lorelei quickly. "I'm r-really sorry! I'm just lousy with names, that's all. I like faces better than names. That's how I remember people. You're the ginger girl with the freckles."

"I'm honored," said Ginny before she could stop herself. Lorelei looked down at herself in shame.

"You don't like me," she mumbled to herself. "You think I'm weird."

_Well, you are weird,_  thought Ginny.

"No, I like you," she said instead.

"You're j-just saying that to be nice," Lorelei replied. "And you're just being nice to me 'cause you think you have to, but you r-really don't like me at all — just like my father." Lorelei seemed to think she'd said too much and quickly turned away from Ginny. Ginny didn't think she ought to press the issue, but there was one thing she was curious about...

"You talk a lot about your father," she said. "Do you have a mother?" Lorelei closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Well, why not?" asked Ginny. "What happened to her?" Lorelei dissolved into tears.

"I — I c-can't t-t-tell you," she sobbed. Ginny sat down beside her and held her closely. Rather quickly after she started, Lorelei looked up.

"Okay, I'll tell you," she decided. "My mum was a nymph." Ginny stared as Lorelei's face turned bright red.

"And so what happened to her?" Ginny asked eventually, trying to sound as though this were a regular conversation. Lorelei shook her head.

"It's not like that," she said in practically a whisper as though ashamed to let this information be heard. "My father met a clan of naiads years ago and... well, you can figure out what happened. I don't even know my mother's n-name, or if she even had one. D-do you know if nymphs have names?"

Ginny shook her head and Lorelei continued to stare down at herself. Not that this was unusual — Lorelei seemed too shy to make eye contact with anyone even under normal circumstances.

"I wasn't supposed to be born," Lorelei said finally.

"Don't  _say_  things like that!" said Ginny instantly.

"Well, I wasn't!" Lorelei insisted in a much more forceful voice than Ginny had ever heard her use. "I was an accident.  _And_  I'm a half-breed, so that means I'm only half a person."

"No, you're not!" Ginny told her.

"How?" asked Lorelei. "The maths seem pretty clear to me."

"It doesn't work that way!" Ginny told her. "If you can think and have feelings, you're a full person."

"Well, I don't feel like I'm a full person," said Lorelei. "I shouldn't be here. I don't belong anywhere. I don't think humans and naiads were meant to... to mix. You just end up being a mess. I'm something that wasn't meant to exist. Everything would be better if I'd never been born."

"Oh, no, it wouldn't!" Ginny said at once. Lorelei said nothing.

"You're — you're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" she said eventually. "My f-father told me never to tell anyone. He works at the Ministry and he thinks it would ruin him if — if — if..." Her voice trailed off.

"Have you told Kimmy about this?" asked Ginny. Lorelei was silent for a moment.

"No," she mumbled.

"Kimmy's been holding your hand all year and you won't tell her what you're so upset about!" Ginny repeated in a perhaps too forceful voice.

"I know," said Lorelei, sounding the tiniest bit exasperated. "But I'm just not ready for her to know."

"Why?" asked Ginny. "She's Muggle-born, so I don't see how she could be prejudiced."

"I'm just not ready," repeated Lorelei. "I've actually been thinking of telling you for awhile now. I know you don't really like me, but I also know you're a good person and you'll keep it a secret, won't you?"

"Yes," said Ginny, trying to sound sincere, "yes, I will." She meant it, but Ginny found it a bit hard to sound sincere when she was secretly attacking people.

And then Ginny realized something — she  _was_  Lorelei. And Tom Riddle was Kimmy with Hermione as Ginny herself. Or was Tom Riddle Ginny and Hermione Kimmy?

* * *

At dinner that day, Dumbledore led everyone but Ginny in a few of his favorite carols. While they sang happily, she sat silently off in a corner, thinking about how many secrets were stored inside her brain. She had never thought of herself as a particularly secretive person, but there were so many secrets in there and that day alone had seen the addition of two; whatever Harry, Ron, and Hermione were up to and Lorelei's parentage. And before that there was Ginny secretly training herself to fly and Percy's secret girlfriend. And, of course, a certain secret diary. And then the worst secret of all...

Ginny should have been proud that she could keep a secret. After all, some girls couldn't resist blabbing everything and turning any secrets they heard into the latest gossip. Certainly Ginny should be happy she wasn't that kind of girl. But perhaps she went too far in the other direction. Perhaps that was how she had fallen into Tom Riddle's grasp in the first place.

She thought back to that dreadful flying accident she had had on her first day of secret broom practice and how she had let her parents think that she had just tripped. Ginny knew that had been the right choice — she had known, even at the age of six, that if she told her parents the truth, they wouldn't have let her near a broomstick again until she was thirty. When she started training herself to fly, Ginny had actually intended to reveal the truth after she had become good enough to impress her brothers. But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and months turned into years. At first she was thinking that she ought to be just a little bit better first, but eventually the quality of her flying became irrelevant. It simply became harder and harder for her to tell the secret the longer she kept it — until at last it became impossible. And now she had kept that secret for almost half her life.

And the same thing was happening now with Tom Riddle's diary. While keeping flying prowess a secret was fairly harmless, her connection to the Chamber of Secrets was a serious and dangerous secret. She had to let it out before it too became impossible to tell.

Or had it already become impossible?


	14. A Bittersweet Victory

Most of the school wasn't too happy to be back when term resumed. Kimmy Seong was an exception, cheerfully telling the other girls about her Christmas with her family in New Malden while Fleeta Fleece naturally made a show of not listening. Even though she was Muggle-born, Kimmy didn't seem too worried about the Chamber of Secrets and was able to slip right back into her bizarre role as Lorelei's constant confident.

Luna Lovegood was also happy to return, eagerly running up to Fleeta just after they got off the Hogwarts Express.

"Fleeta, guess what?" said Luna. "I talked to my father over break about what's happening here and he believes me. Maybe you'll believe me too now that it's in print."

With that, Luna held up the latest issue of  _The Quibbler_. The headline "MINISTRY AGENT PERPETRATES 'CHAMBER OF SECRETS' HOAX AT HOGWARTS" was accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart's smiling photograph from the cover of  _Magical Me_.

"Let me see that," said Fleeta with maliciousness which no one but "Loony" Lovegood could fail to miss. Luna passed the magazine over and Fleeta immediately proceeded to tear out every single page, tossing them behind her like large piece of confetti.

"That wasn't nice," said Luna vaguely as the last of the  _Quibbler_  pages settled on the ground. Fleeta's only response was to throw the empty magazine cover in Luna's face and strut away, leaving Luna looking mildly surprised.

Hermione, meanwhile, had been in the hospital wing since Christmas. Apparently, whatever she had been planning with Harry and Ron to discover the Heir of Slytherin had somehow resulted in her being turned into a cat-girl. Ginny decided it was best not to wonder about this. There was no reason to think Madam Pomfrey wouldn't cure Hermione soon enough, but this still left Ginny unable to talk to her for a time. Ginny wasn't sure whether Madam Pomfrey would let her into the infirmary, but that was a moot point — she didn't trust herself to go near the Petrified students.

"It's bad enough having Hermione in the hospital wing for the cat thing, but what if she's Petrified?" Ginny wrote in the diary as she sat on her unmade bed one evening. "Then I won't have anyone to tell my secret to and it'll be all my fault. And what if she dies?"

Ginny had not told Tom Riddle that she suspected him, which often made it quite difficult for her explain her guilty feelings to him. She was sure at times that he must see through her words and realize what she was really thinking, but he never asked her about it. Why would he? She no longer sought his advice, knowing he wouldn't tell her anything useful, instead relying on him purely for emotional support. And he was still good at that.

" _Oh Ginny, I hate to repeat myself, but you have no reason to believe you're doing this and Hermione would tell you the same thing. It tears me up inside knowing that you're blaming yourself for something so horrible and so beyond your control. Besides, I still don't understand why you think you need to share your fears with Hermione. You hardly know her and you can tell me anything. I'll always listen to your —"_

"Hey, Ginny! What've you got there?"

"Nothing," Ginny lied quickly, slamming the diary shut as she looked up to see Kimmy had just entered the dormitory.

It was only a second later that Ginny realized what a pathetic lie this was — Kimmy could clearly  _see_  she had something there. This was exactly the situation Ginny had so worried about in the days before the opening of the Chamber — one of her dorm mates walking in on her using the diary none of them knew about. Whenever she used the diary, Ginny always closed the dormitory door so that the sound of it opening could serve as her warning that someone was coming in, but by now she had become too comfortable and had stupidly forgotten to do that.

"It's — it's my diary," Ginny said eventually, sure her face must be a picture of guilt as she looked into the smiling face of the Muggle-born witch whose life she had just been endangering.

"There's nothing wrong with keeping a diary," Kimmy assured her. "You don't need to feel ashamed of it."

"I — I don't feel ashamed," lied Ginny, feeling even more guilty. "I just wanted it to be a secret, that's all."

"Well, don't worry, I won't tell anyone," said Kimmy cheerfully. "And I would never read someone else's private diary. You know, you never really struck me as the diary type, but I think keeping a diary would be good for you. It's like having a little friend who always listens to whatever you have to say."

"Yeah, and then you can worry about people finding it and reading all your embarrassing secrets," said Ginny. Kimmy smiled weakly.

"It's too bad diaries are one-way," she said thoughtfully. "You share your private feelings with them and they never write back. Wouldn't it be wonderful if diaries could write back to you?"

"Yeah, wonderful," echoed Ginny in a toneless sort of voice.

Muttering "bye", she got up and left the room, taking the diary with her. She wasn't about to leave it out in her dormitory right after someone had seen it. She knew Kimmy was a decent person and that it was extremely unlikely she had been lying about not reading someone else's diary, but Ginny wouldn't let herself take that chance. It felt too unsafe leaving the diary alone with a person who had just seen it. After all, if Kimmy looked in the diary and saw it was blank, she would ask questions Ginny couldn't answer.

Kimmy. Why did it have to be her Muggle-born dorm mate who walked in on her using the diary? That just made the guilt so much worse...

Ginny arrived in the common room to see a large third-year boy raving about hunting nogtails with his uncle before a captive audience of younger boys. They included Momus Gumption, who was almost singularly responsible for all points lost by the Gryffindor first years. Although none of the boys seemed to have noticed she was there, Ginny felt very aware that this was the first time she had taken the diary outside her dormitory of her own free will and so she kept it out of sight. Besides, she could easily see Momus Gumption wrestling someone's diary out of their hands and he stood a good chance of succeeding considering he was surrounded by boys who were probably as immature as he was.

Not entirely sure where she was planning to go, Ginny edged towards the portrait hole while the boys remained engrossed in the wiry-haired third year's increasingly improbable tale which now involved him being chased by a nundu he had accidentally awoken. As she neared the common room fire, it suddenly occurred to her that she could just toss Tom Riddle's diary into it. After all, she couldn't write in the diary very well if it were burned to a crisp, now could she?

She stopped moving. She had thought she was pretty sure that Tom Riddle was the one possessing her, but she would have to be really, really sure if she were to go so far as to destroy the diary — killing him, essentially. But, however much it pained her to admit it, it was a fact that she was incapable of resisting the diary. She had tried and failed so many times. She had no choice but to stop herself forcibly — and she could only do that by ridding herself of that cursed book.

"Hey, Weasley!" shouted Momus Gumption, causing all the boys to turn and look at her. "You wanna sit with us?"

"N-no, thanks," she said with an anxiousness she couldn't quite explain. "I'll go now." She walked out the portrait hole rather quicker than was necessary, sure the boys were snickering behind her. She felt like such a little girl!

Once she was outside the common room, she continued, not even sure where she was going and gradually upping her pace until she was running. Finally, she stopped in a corridor on the second floor and looked down at the black diary she was still holding in her right hand. She was going to get rid of it — the one thing in the entire world which made her feel just a  _little_  happy. There was no doubt about it anymore — the only question was how she would do it.

Ginny tried not to cry. She knew this was her only choice.

But she also knew that she did not want Tom Riddle to die. He had been so kind to her and he had made her feel so loved. Even if it was all a lie, she couldn't bear the thought of killing him. Of course, she was already a killer, having taken out a couple of Hagrid's chickens, but at least they were animals usually killed by people. However, every time she wrote in the diary she risked murdering one of her classmates. The danger never felt real enough to stop her — after all, no had died yet — but she knew it was real and that should have been enough. What would she do if, heaven forbid, someone  _did_  die? What if that someone was Kimmy or Hermione?

Ginny had wasted so much time trying to stop herself from using the diary and she wished none of it had ever happened. She wished that when she found that diary she had had the sense to turn it over to her parents. She wished she'd never found it. She wished it had never existed in the first place. But all the wishing in the world wouldn't change anything and she knew it. She had done what she had done. There was nothing she could do now except stop it from continuing. And if she destroyed the diary on her own, no one would even have to know.

Ginny looked down the corridor she hadn't passed through in ages — the one leading to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Even thinking about going near that horrible writing again made Ginny shake. She hadn't looked at it since Halloween and aside from the time after the last attack she hadn't gone near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom since then either — at least not that she was aware of. And yet that scene from Halloween was burned indelibly into her memory. Even now, she could remember the exact wording of the ghastly message that had been left on the wall. It haunted her constantly, while she was awake and in her nightmares. At least when she was awake, she could try to force herself to not think about it, but trying not to think about it only made her think about it more.

And now for some reason she was thinking of actually going down there again. If she did that, it would leave her with more scarring images she couldn't forget! What would be the point of that? But she was a Gryffindor, and she couldn't avoid that corridor forever. When she was in her seventh year, would she still be taking the long way around just to avoid a perfectly harmless wall? She would have to confront her fear eventually, but not today. Not when she felt this scared. But she would feel scared anytime she decided to face that wall again. And she was already there.

Her heart raced as she walked down the hallway, with every step thinking that she should be running away in the other direction as fast as she could. She knew that she would not enjoy this at all, and that she wouldn't feel much better after it was over. Why she was doing this was completely beyond her. But she couldn't keep away from this corridor forever. As fear swept through her, she thought that this might actually be worse than Halloween. Even though she now knew there would be nothing dangerous there, at least before she had been thrown into the situation unexpectedly. Now, she was freely walking into it and that required much more bravery.

At long last, she reached the wall. The words which haunted Ginny's dreams gleamed just as brightly as ever — Filch had been unable to clean them off. Aside from the absence of a Petrified cat hanging from the torch bracket, everything was still the same as it had been when she was last there. She still wasn't sure whether the words were written in red paint or blood, but gloomily figured it was probably blood. Her heart was still racing, but after she had built it up so much in her mind, actually being there didn't seem so bad after all. At least not at that moment — she was sure the real horror would come later when the images her eyes were presently taking in would refuse to leave her alone.

She looked at the message, trying to see Tom Riddle's refined handwriting in the large, crude letters. It was impossible, of course. Her heart beating outside of her chest, Ginny stepped forward to examine the letters more closely. She felt herself shake and tremble just as she had on Halloween. It was funny how she had only seen these words once before, but remembered them so well. There were entire days of her life she had forgotten and she couldn't even remember anything from when she had been really little. And yet her mind cruelly picked that terrible Halloween night for her to remember so well over so many innocuous and now forgotten moments.

Ginny kind of wanted to step into the bathroom to look around it again. She hadn't been in there since the attack on Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick. But she was shaking so much — maybe she could come back later when she felt braver. But she was already there and she didn't plan on going through this again anytime soon. She might as well get it over with. Besides, nothing in there could be worse than a huge threatening message possibly written in blood. Feeling like she was making a bad decision, she opened the door and ventured into the dark girls' toilet.

Strangely, Ginny felt eyes on the back of her neck, but when she looked around she didn't see anything. Maybe Myrtle was spying on her, but floating inside a wall or something whenever Ginny turned around. Ginny had never actually met the unpleasant spirit which haunted the bathroom, but from what she was told Myrtle was the ghost of a former Hogwarts student who made Lorelei look thick-skinned. Ginny noted her scared reflection in the cracked mirror. She didn't like the way she looked at all. She still hadn't been eating much nor had she been taking good care of herself. When you factored in her secondhand clothes, it added up to make her look like an underfed homeless child. Not that she would have preferred looking fat or anything.

Her reflection was holding Tom Riddle's diary in its right arm. She turned her gaze down to the diary, having almost forgotten she still had it with her. Almost reflexively, her arms wrapped themselves tightly around the diary. She turned her head back up to the mirror. She looked so stupid hugging a book like it was a person! But she didn't stop nor could she take her eyes off her reflection even though she really didn't like her appearance at all. Ginny decided she was hugging Tom Riddle goodbye. After all, she had decided to rid herself of the diary and what better place was there to dispose of it than right there in the bathroom off from where this had all started? She could simply flush it down a toilet, assuming at least one of them still worked.

After indulging her desire to hug the diary for far too long, she pried her arms off her chest to hold the book with one hand. She didn't want to let go. There was still that really, really stupid part of her which continued to believe Tom Riddle loved her. But what else was she going to do? Go back to her dormitory after accomplishing nothing here, continue to write in the diary, and murder Kimmy, Hermione, or Penny? No, she was going to end this right here and now!

Ginny forced herself to walk into an opened stall, knowing that the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could get away from this terrible place and its bathroom smell. She still didn't want Tom Riddle to be destroyed and this way he probably wouldn't be. If he were flushed down a toilet, he would be out of her reach and unable to posses her, but he would remain alive. He might not have much of a life without someone writing to him, but it was the best she could do.

She was taking too much time. Ginny threw the diary right into the toilet. Now she would at least be very disinclined to pick it up again. After watching it float in the toilet water for awhile, she again pushed herself to get this over with. She unceremoniously pushed down the flush lever with her foot, not wanting to touch anything in that bathroom with her hands, and watched the small black book spin down the toilet.

An ear-splitting cry rose up as the diary disappeared, causing her to jump in fright! Figuring it was probably Moaning Myrtle, whom she had no desire to meet, Ginny speeded out of the bathroom. As she ran, a lingering fear that she had done the wrong thing crept into her. But she had done it and now it was over. It was a rather odd ending to all her problems, but it was an ending nonetheless and any ending signified she would no longer have to worry about attacking anyone.

Ginny didn't even seem to know where her legs were carrying her until she pushed her way through the castle's oak front doors. She stopped just outside the doors and surveyed the grounds. The cold grays of January had never looked so bright and colorful! In the distance she could see the Quidditch pitch where the Hufflepuff team was finishing up practice for their upcoming match against Gryffindor. Ginny let it go to her head; she was free now. It was over. It was all over for good.

But she would have to carry the horrible secret that she had opened the Chamber of Secrets inside of her for the rest of her life. With it over, there was no reason for her to tell as it would only serve to make her loved ones aware that she was apparently a horrible enough person to endanger the lives of her fellow students for a little emotional security. She didn't want to share that with anyone ever. She would much rather carry that awful knowledge inside of herself until her dying day.

As she thought back on what she had just done, she realized the way she had ended this wasn't so bad. She was free of Tom Riddle, and she had never had to share her secret with anyone. Was there a better way this could have turned out? No one else, of course, knew the danger had passed, but they would slowly realize it after enough time passed with no attacks. The tension which filled the corridors would slowly but surely die down and disappear. The Petrified people would be returned to their normal states to go about their regular lives again. It would all go away eventually.

But Ginny's guilt would not go away and no one else would ever even know about it. It was a terrible prospect, but what could she do? She decided there was nothing to do except to try as hard as she could to act normally again and not think about any of this. Maybe she could even be a happy eleven-year-old girl again. Happy. She hadn't been happy in so long! What it felt like to be truly happy was almost a faint memory to her. Could she ever manage it again?

She smiled a little smile almost just to see if she still could. It felt good — she didn't know when the last time she had smiled was, but it was probably months ago. Tears started rolling down her face. She had been so miserable for so long that smiling felt a little weird to her. How sad was that? Ginny decided they were tears of joy. She was finally free. Her mouth twitched oddly as she pushed it into a full-fledged grin. She did feel happy.

Smiling and still crying, Ginny began to skip happily down to Hagrid's hut to visit him for the first time since she had killed his roosters. She knew that from that moment on, everything would go right.


	15. Ginny's Bad Day

A few weeks later, Ginny was in considerably lower spirits. Although Hagrid apparently bought her story that she had run away from him because she had suddenly remembered something she had to do and that she hadn't visited him since because she was so busy with schoolwork, their tea together was the definition of awkward. It certainly didn't help that there wasn't really anything to talk about anymore other than the Chamber of Secrets and Hagrid seemed to want to avoid that subject as much as she did. She hadn't visited him again after that.

She knew throwing away the diary had been the right thing to do, but her life felt so empty without Tom Riddle. It was hard to remember how scared and unclean he had made her feel when his absence made her so lonely that she hid herself away in bathrooms to cry almost every day. It was now more obvious than ever that she really did not have any friends. Her tears were her only friends now. Ginny almost found herself thinking a few times that writing to Tom Riddle might just be worth it if she could somehow ensure that people would only be Petrified and not killed. But that would still be incredibly selfish of her.

Obviously, she needed to make some friends, but all the friendships had been made back in September when Ginny was too engrossed in that stupid diary to notice she didn't have any friends in the real world. She should have made friends with someone her own age on the train like Harry and Ron did in their first year, but instead all she could think about was finding an empty compartment to write to Tom Riddle in. And even now Ginny felt ashamed enough of herself to not want to be around other people, but she also wanted to not feel lonely. It was so confusing and thinking about it made her want to cry. And talk — talk to just  _someone_  about what she was feeling.

Who could she be friends with anyway? All three of her dorm mates were out right away, particularly Fleeta Fleece. She had had enough of Lorelei over Christmas, and she didn't see how she could be particularly close friends with Kimmy without coming between her and Lorelei. Besides, Kimmy was Muggle-born and being around Muggle-borns still made Ginny feel a little guilty. The same applied to Hermione, who was now out of the hospital. And Ginny could only imagine that being Hermione's friend would probably involve spending a lot of time in the library trying not to be bored to death. Sometimes Ginny felt like stopping a random person in the hallways and asking them if they wanted to be friends with her.  _That_  was how sad and desperate she had become.

Of course, there was one person she had wanted to be friends with for a long, long time. But famous Harry Potter deserved so much better than someone so weak and pathetic that she would jeopardize other students' lives to feel better about herself. But that was all over now and she could still be a good person. And Ginny still really, really wanted Harry to like her. Maybe someday — no doubt years from now when they were very close — she would tell Harry her secret. He would see how sorry she was and if he still liked her after that she would know that he really did love her unconditionally.

She knew it was Harry she wanted — it had always been Harry and always would be. But she wanted Harry to be more than just a friend — she wanted him to be her  _boyfriend_. Even  _thinking_  the word "boyfriend" made her feel a little embarrassed! Back when Harry first arrived at the Burrow, Ginny had been a little confused by her feelings and wasn't sure whether or not she was in love with him, but she was sure now that she was. It was very wishful of her to be thinking about having a boyfriend when she required just a regular friend, but Harry was the only person she could imagine making her feel as happy and loved as Tom Riddle had. Besides, a boyfriend would be so much more special than just a regular friend!

She did think it was appropriate of her to go back to thinking about Harry. After all that Tom Riddle had put her through, she just wanted everything to go back to normal. And even with other people still whispering and wondering about the Chamber of Secrets, her life largely did. She was lonely, but her grades were looking up after the slump they had fallen into over the past months and she was eagerly looking forward to the next Quidditch match, sure Gryffindor would beat Hufflepuff and stand a real chance of winning the Quidditch Cup for the first time in years.

One February night, Ginny lay awake in bed listening to Fleeta Fleece mutter in her sleep about expensive brands of clothing. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, a day which hadn't meant much to Ginny in the past, but now seemed the perfect day for her to talk to Harry. After all, she didn't  _just_ want everything to go back to normal — she wanted to move on with her life and what better way was there to do that than to finally talk to Harry?  _And_  that could solve her problem of not having any friends at the same time.

Ginny firmly decided that she  _would_  talk to Harry that day. She closed her eyes and dreamily imagined them sitting in an empty common room, holding hands by the fire. For once, this fantasy didn't feel completely unattainable. All she would have to do was be prepared — and not care if she got embarrassed. After all, Harry knew she blushed in front of him, so what use would it be trying to hide it? And after she managed to speak to him, a whole new world would be opened to her! But it would be so hard. She imagined herself walk up to Harry and ask him if he would be her valentine. Saying that would make her feel so embarrassed!

But she had decided she didn't care if she blushed anymore, so she would just have to be brave. She  _was_  brave — she was in Gryffindor and Gryffindors were brave.

Eyes still closed, Ginny rolled over, romantically taking up her blanket in her arms. She imagined herself and Harry sitting very close together, holding hands. Maybe they would cuddle up close to each other and  _kiss_. What did it feel like to be kissed on the lips anyway? Ginny's thoughts went deeper and she thought about them getting married. Getting married was so romantic! Her family would be so proud to see her walk down the aisle and Harry would be saying "I do" as he looking into her face as though it were the most beautiful thing in the world. She would be really, really happy!

Ginny's eyes suddenly popped open to reveal to her that she was still lying in her bed looking out at the nondescript room she had slept in for the past few months.

She couldn't sleep.

She wanted the day to come — the day when she would force herself to speak to Harry Potter if it was the last thing she did. Ginny sat upright, feeling tired, but too restless to sleep. Maybe if she couldn't sleep anyway, she could spend the time deciding what she would say when she talked to him. First she would walk up to Harry, blush probably, and say "Hi." He would probably say something like "Hello, Ginny" and she would blush harder, but force herself to keep smiling. Then what? Say "I love you, Harry"? What did she hope to accomplish by this anyway? Did she seriously believe Harry would want to hold hands with her or  _kiss_  her? It was embarrassing thinking about doing such intimate things with someone she hardly even knew!

Maybe she could just give him a letter — a valentine. That would really simplify things — all she would have to do was walk up to him and say, "Hi, Harry — this is for you." If he liked her valentine, he might — just  _might_  — decide to spend a little time with her. Then he might slowly get to like her and they could end up becoming close just like she wanted them to be. Also with a valentine she could spend a lot of time planning out what to write and it greatly reduced the risk that she might say something stupid by accident.

Ginny got out several pieces of parchment and headed downstairs to the empty common room so she would have a surface to write on. She took out a quill and started working on producing as good a valentine as she could. After what she estimated to be about twenty minutes, all she had produced was a lot wasted parchment; "Dear Harry, I think I love you. Will you be my valentine?" "Dear Harry, I really like you. Do you like me?" It was all terrible. What could she possibly say to him?

_Just write down how you really feel_ , she thought. But it was this piece of advice that had caused her to write a valentine that read "Dear Harry, I want you to be my closest friend in the whole world." He would think she was so weird if she gave him that!

Now, she was stuck. How  _did_  she feel about Harry? Well, she liked to daydream about him, but she wasn't about to write "Dear Harry, I like to imagine us snuggling together." She thought he was friendly and caring, but all that got her was "Dear Harry, I think you're nice." When she thought about his past and decided to express sympathy she came up with "Dear Harry, I feel sorry for you losing your parents" and that seemed like quite a downer to open a love letter with.

Now all she had in front of her was a piece of parchment that read "Dear Harry." She sighed — maybe Tom Riddle would have known what the right thing to say was, but this actually made her feel pleased she had disposed of the diary since otherwise she didn't think she could have resisted using it. Suddenly, Ginny thought of something she could say and wrote "I wish you were mine," after the "Dear Harry." It wasn't dreadful and it was kind of romantic — at least as romantic as anything she could come up with. After that, she wrote, "I really like you," and crossed it out. Then she tried "I think you're nice," but crossed that out as well. What else could she possibly say? She wrote "I think you're very," and proceeded to struggle over what word to put in after the "very."

After eliminating "wonderful," "kind" and "brave," she settled on the word "divine," which the dictionary described as meaning "supremely good or great." Ginny thought that fit Harry perfectly and read what she had now. It read "Dear Harry, I wish you were mine. I think you're very divine."

_Great, it rhymes_ , she thought in frustration.

If one part of her valentine rhymed, the rest would be expected to rhyme as well. She tried to reword it so it wouldn't rhyme, but couldn't think of a way to do. Maybe she could just make the whole thing rhyme, but then it would sound like a poem. Well, why not send him a poem? Then she wouldn't have to talk about her feelings so directly. Of course, there was a problem in that Ginny simply couldn't write poetry.

After struggling over it for awhile, Ginny came up with a poem:

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord._

It was awful — just plain awful!

Ginny grabbed the parchment, crumpled it up in her fist and was about to throw to away like the rest, when she changed her mind and flattened it out again. Maybe it  _was_  awful, but Ginny's mother had always said it was the thought that counted and though her poem wasn't that good she had worked hard on it and Harry would hopefully understand it was the best she could do.

Ginny sighed.

Maybe she could just give it to him anonymously. Harry Potter was so famous that dozens and dozens of girls would probably be sending him valentines. Chances were he wouldn't even look twice at hers. At least she would have expressed her feelings for him even if he didn't know it. Feeling gloomy, Ginny headed back up to her dormitory so she could get some sleep.

* * *

The first thing Ginny did the next morning, after copying her poem onto a clean sheet of parchment, was take a long, hard look at her reflection, trying to make an objective assessment of her appearance. Today she would make an extra effort to look her best. However, with her disheveled hair, bare feet and her nightdress hanging loosely on her haggard body, she looked pitiful. Eventually, she decided that if she combed her hair and put on some semi-nice clothes she would look fine.

Fine. There was that "fine" word again. Was "fine" as good as she could possibly look?

Ginny did not like being eleven anymore. She had looked forward to being eleven all her life, for it was the age when she would finally be allowed to go to Hogwarts, but now she wanted to be even older. She knew her body was just starting to change from the body of a child into the body of a teenager. Ginny wished she could be a teenager now. Maybe then her family would recognize how old she was. What if by the time she was sixteen she had grown up to be much more beautiful than she was now? What if her scarlet hair were long and silky? What if she went strolling around the pleasant grounds of Hogwarts holding hands with Harry? She felt her face redden and snapped out of it. She looked at herself — she was still a pathetic-looking eleven-year-old girl with limp red hair.

A huge sigh escaped her lips. What was the point?

Nevertheless, Ginny bathed very thoroughly and then spent a long time combing her hair. She had a few snarls to work through as she had been so depressed for so long that she hadn't combed in ages. As her hand motions became habitual, she closed her eyes and thought about Harry. She again imagined herself and Harry at their wedding. The idea of them getting married seemed so impossible and the time when they would be old enough to get married seemed very far off. Still, she knew marriage was a very serious commitment and not something to be taken lightly. If she forced herself to be brave and talk to him now, then maybe they would be ready to get married when they were old enough.

She went on to imagine what would happen after their marriage. First of all, they would, of course, have children. Ginny had always wanted to have lots of children — maybe it was a Weasley thing. Ginny being the mother of famous Harry Potter's children? — it seemed so impossible. Right now she and Harry hardly knew each other and if things continued as they had in the past the odds of them ever getting together were quite slim.

Ginny closed her eyes again. Well, if it probably wasn't going to happen anyway, she might as well fantasize about it…

* * *

Ginny arrived downstairs wearing a sort-of-nice-looking outfit. It looked much too worn and old to really look any good, but it was a good combination given her choices… kind of. She did think she probably looked her best, so she should feel proud even if her best wasn't that great.

The Great Hall was adorned for Valentine's Day with decorations that were, in her opinion, very garish. When she noticed Professor Lockhart was wearing lurid pink robes to match them, she realized instantly who was responsible for this. As she looked around at the tasteless decor, she noticed she was fidgeting with her hands and stopped.

_Calm down, Ginny, calm down_ , she thought.  _Everything's going to be okay. Harry will understand if you feel embarrassed._

Ginny walked alongside the table trying to find Harry. This was it — she was going to talk to him. Maybe just to say "hi" and hand him her valentine, but she would still be talking to him! She had decided that she was ready, but when she thought about what she was going to do, she felt butterflies in her stomach. Telling herself to calm down, she walked towards where the second years sat at the table. She was so busy telling herself not to panic that she overshot her destination and had to go back.

However, though she found Ron and Hermione, Harry wasn't in sight. With Ron looking too nauseated to speak, Ginny approached a giggling Hermione.

"Where's Harry?" she asked her. Hermione, still giggling, shook her head.

Ginny sighed and went to her usual seat. Whether he had planned it or not, Harry arrived in the Great Hall fashionably late. As he sat down between Ron and Hermione, Ginny found herself wishing she had sat down next to Hermione — then she would be only a few feet from Harry. Oh well, she had all day to get him to notice her because now she would actually  _try_  to get him to notice her rather than shyly turning away whenever he looked in her direction.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted suddenly. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far send me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and about twelve sullen dwarfs carrying harps and wearing golden wings walked into the room. Lockhart proceeded to explain how his "friendly, card-carrying cupids" would be wandering around the school delivering people's valentine's for them. Seeming not to notice the grim looks on the faces of the other teachers, Lockhart happily suggested they might be willing to get into the spirit of the holiday as well, even volunteering Snape to whip up Love Potions!

Ginny didn't want a Love Potion — she wanted Harry to fall in love with her on his own terms as she was sure he would if he really got to know her. As she got up to head off to her first class, she ignored Fleeta Fleece, who was complaining disdainfully about how many girls were trying to "steal" Lockhart from her. As Ginny headed out of the Great Hall, she found Hermione digging through her bag, apparently trying to find her schedule.

Ginny approached her — she could use an opinion.

"Hermione?" she said. Hermione looked up.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Can you tell me how I look?" Ginny asked her politely.

"You look cute," Hermione replied, causing Ginny to blush a little. She would have rather she looked beautiful or stunning, but cute was something.

"Honestly?" she asked. "If I look awful, you can tell me — I won't start crying or anything."

"Well… maybe a  _little_  tired and disheveled," Hermione admitted, "but overall you look fine." Ginny sighed, feeling very disappointed. Apparently "fine"  _was_  as good as she could possibly look!

"Well, thanks for being honest," she said eventually. "Bye," she added sadly, turning to walk off to Potions.

"It's okay," Hermione said immediately. "Everyone looks tired now and then."

"I'm all right," Ginny told the tapestry she was looking at. "I asked you how I really looked and you told me — it's not your fault if I look awful."

"You don't look  _awful_!" Hermione said immediately. "You just look a little… tired. That's all."

"Look, I'm  _fine_!" Ginny said somewhat angrily. "You — you can go away." She didn't need or want any sympathy.

"Ginny, really, it's okay," Hermione said calmly. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything." Ginny still refused to look at her.

"You didn't hurt my feelings!" she said angrily. "I — I just want to be alone right now,  _okay_?" There was a long moment of silence.

"Okay," Hermione repeated, before reluctantly leaving her.

Ginny looked over the beautiful scarlet tapestry as students passed — talking, laughing and enjoying their ordinary lives. For some inexplicable reason, she got a brilliant idea while looking over the arras. On a complete whim, she turned around and ran after Professor Lockhart, who was on his way to teach his sixth-year class.

"Professor!" she called after him. "Professor Lockhart!" To her amazement, Lockhart stopped and turned around to face her.

"I'll make it quick," he told her. "Get out your book."

"My book?" asked Ginny.

"Or your knickers," he added.

" _What_?" she asked, feeling scandalized.

"Just give me whatever it is!" he said impatiently. "I'll sign anything." Ginny was too aghast to answer.

"It's none of those things," she said eventually, feeling her face redden. "I — I was just wondering if you could have one of your dwarfs deliver a valentine for me."

"You mean one of my friendly, card-carrying cupids," Lockhart corrected her cheerfully.

"Whatever," Ginny said as he took the parchment from her without looking at it.

"Who's it for?" he asked her.

"Harry Potter," she answered matter-of-factly. Lockhart's whole manner suddenly changed.

"Ah, you're an ambitious one, aren't you?" he asked her slyly. "What's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley," Ginny answered promptly. "But don't tell Harry who it's from," she added quickly.

"Oh, you're one of those Weaselbes," Lockhart said smartly. "Ah, yes, I once knew a relative of yours back when I was your age. He was a close friend of mine — I wonder why I haven't noticed you in my classes before. No matter — let's see what this is," he continued, looking at the parchment. "Ah, it's a poem — do you like poetry?"

"I guess," Ginny said noncommittally, but Lockhart wasn't listening.

"I could have been a poet myself," said Lockhart. "In fact, I wrote such excellent poetry that Professor Slughorn had one of my poems published back when I was a student here. He used to say I showed great promise."

"Right," Ginny said, not really listening to any of this. "Anyway, thank you for your time, Professor — I'm assuming you'll have my valentine delivered."

"Oh, of course!" Lockhart said cheerfully. "We wouldn't want to deprive poor Harry of a love life, now would we?" Ginny blushed, but Lockhart didn't seem to notice.

"Of course not," Ginny said tentatively. "Well, uh, goodbye," she added, leaving before Lockhart could say anything more.

The morning's Potions class was fairly typical — Gryffindor lost about fifty points, prompting Ginny to wonder if it was possible to have negative points. What made this class unique was an interruption by one of Lockhart's dwarfs. Though the valentine was for Minos Lascasas, Snape had other ideas and took the card himself.

"I don't want you reading this in class, Mr. Lascasas," he had told Minos strictly. "Therefore, I'll save you the trouble…"

An awful smile crept slowly over Snape's face.

"…and read it for you," he finished nastily.

Snape went on to read aloud for the class what turned out to be an extremely mushy account of how cute Minos was. Minos was so embarrassed that he actually ended up  _crying_  — this was the first time Ginny had seen a boy cry in  _years_. Though her ironically cherubic face became redder and redder as Snape read the valentine, Fleeta Fleece vehemently denied that she had sent it. Needless to say, none of this reflected too well on Ginny's decision to send Harry a valentine.

She was still hoping Harry wouldn't receive her valentine while he was in Potions late that afternoon as she headed off to Defense Against the Dark Arts. On the way, she spotted Kimmy Seong talking to a Ravenclaw girl whom Ginny didn't know the name of. Lorelei was, of course, silently following behind them as though afraid she would be lost forever if Kimmy slipped out of her sight.

"Kimmy," called Ginny.

"Hi," she answered. "I was just talking to Artemis."

"Could I speak to you?" Ginny asked her.

"Sure," said Kimmy, shrugging. Ginny would have asked the girl called Artemis to go away, but thought it might be seen as rude.

"I just wanted to ask you if you'd sent anyone a valentine?" asked Ginny, feeling very nervous, as they walked down the corridor together. This was quite a personal question and she didn't really know Kimmy that well. Would Kimmy be angry?

"No," she replied. "Have you?" Ginny's face became red — it was only fair that she answer honestly.

"Yeah," she said, avoiding Kimmy's eyes, "now I'm not sure it was the right thing to do."

"It's okay," Kimmy assured her. "If the person you sent it to really likes you, they'll still like you if they get embarrassed. They'll know you didn't mean for it to happen like that. Everyone knows talking about love can be really embarrassing."

"Yeah," said Ginny in a dull voice.

"I was thinking of sending a valentine to Minos Lascasas," said Artemis conversationally, "but then I heard about what happened to him in Potions this morning. It's so cute how shy he can be! He's not at all a git like most boys. Who do you like?"

"I'm not really into boys," admitted Kimmy. "I think friendships are more important. Besides, we'll have plenty of time for boys and stuff when we're older."

Ginny walked on silently next to them, shaking a little and wondering if she should try saying something, when she heard something she hadn't expected at all.

"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!"

Ginny winced instantly, as though her name had been called as well, and felt her face redden. She automatically turned in the direction the voice had come from and saw the person to whom the name corresponded was heading in her direction and being followed by one of Lockhart's dwarfs. The dwarf was fighting though the stream of people to get to him.

_Oh, please,_ please _, don't let it be my valentine_ , Ginny thought desperately.

She supposed it was fairly unlikely to be hers, but she ducked down and tried to dash off just in case. Unfortunately, too many people were heading in her direction to see what the all commotion was about. She heard something rip and turned around to see Harry's bag had split in two. His belongings were spilled out on the floor and coated with ink. As he scrambled to pick it all up, Ginny felt a tight knot of guilt form in her stomach as though this were somehow her fault.

As Harry tried to make a break for it, Ginny began panicking. The dwarf grabbed Harry's knees and brought him to the floor, sitting on his ankles to prevent him from escaping.

"Right," the dwarf said. "Here is your singing valentine." And to Ginny's horror, he sung her dreadful poem aloud for the whole corridor to hear! Every awful word of her awful poem seemed about a thousand times more awful than it had on the page.

_No! No! No!_  Ginny found herself thinking. Everything was going so wrong she couldn't take it! By the time the dwarf was finished, Harry's face had become as red as hers probably was. While Percy attempted to dissipate the crowd, Harry tried, bravely she thought, to laugh along with everyone else. Ginny desperately hoped Percy wouldn't notice her as he bluntly shooed Kimmy, Lorelei, and Artemis off to class. What should Ginny do now?

_Apologize_ , she thought suddenly.  _Apologize to Harry — explain to him how you're responsible and how you didn't intend for it to get this far out of hand. He'll understand and forgive you — then you'll feel better and he might even feel sorry for you._

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" an awful, sneering voice said loudly. The corridor suddenly became eerily quiet as Ginny turned to see Draco Malfoy holding the very,  _very_  last object she would have expected to see him holding.

_Tom Riddle's diary!_


	16. Thief in Gryffindor Tower

"Hand it over, Malfoy," ordered Percy.

"When I've had a look," Malfoy replied as he waved the diary tauntingly in Harry's face.

Ginny was hardly listening — she was in a daze.  _Harry_  had had her diary and now  _Draco Malfoy_  had stolen it from him. This wasn't possible. It didn't make any sense. This was just some crazy dream she would wake up from to find Valentine's Day hadn't come yet. When she did wake up, she would make the day go the way it was supposed to and not at all like this.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Harry had fired a spell at Malfoy that caused the diary —  _her_  diary — to fly out of his hands, so Ron could catch it.

"Harry!" scolded Percy. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

Harry didn't seem at all upset, but Ginny was hardly looking at him as she absent-mindedly turned to wander off towards her next class. She still couldn't believe this was happening, but she felt very awake. Could her heart be pounding like this when she was asleep without waking her? But it made no sense — she had flushed that diary down a toilet weeks ago. How could  _Harry_  of all people have gotten ahold of it? What could she do? At least, Malfoy didn't have it anymore…

"I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!" Malfoy shouted at her as she passed him. Ginny's face turned bright red.

It was probably the most embarrassing moment of her entire life! Her hands instinctively covered her face as she ran into class. As soon as she had sat down at her desk, Ginny forced herself to pull her hands away from her face. She looked at them thinking that these shaking hands had opened the Chamber of Secrets and attacked two students just like her. And now the means by which she had done it was in the hands of Harry Potter. She had spent the past weeks thinking she was safe now — that everything was finally all right — and all that time things had been worse than ever.

It was only when she heard the bloated voice of Gilderoy Lockhart that she remembered what class she was in.

"Welcome to another class with your favorite celebrity teacher!" he said pompously as the rest of the students sauntered in, some still muffling their laughter over Ginny's valentine.

"And his lovely assistant," Fleeta Fleece chimed in importantly as she glided up to Lockhart's side like a ballerina.

"Miss Fleece, please return to your desk," said Lockhart. This was something he had never said before and it made Fleeta look as though she had just been ordered to move to Siberia.

"What?" she asked faintly.

"Sit at your desk; I have a new assistant today!" he declared. "Come on up here, Miss Wheezily!" Fleeta's cold slate eyes shot daggers at Ginny, who was still shaking with emotion from her humiliation out in the hallway. Ginny would never know how she managed to walk up in front of the class when she only wanted to curl up into a tiny little ball and disappear.

"It's 'Weasley'," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, "and about my valentine —"

"I take it Harry got it," said Lockhart, winking cheerfully at her. "I made quite a show out of it, didn't I?"

"You know, I  _didn't_  ask to have my poem sung aloud," Ginny said hotly.

"I know, I know," said Lockhart proudly. "There's no need to thank me — I'm just overflowing with brilliant ideas!"

"What?" said Ginny, a little confused. "But I didn't want a big —" Lockhart held up his hand to silence her before she could finish.

"You're quite welcome, Miss Whispy," he said, "but I already told you that you didn't have to thank me. And now I have an extra treat for you today. You'll get to act out the title role from  _Year with the Yeti_! Now, be sure you don't let my good looks distract you."

"Thank you," Ginny said in a sarcastic voice she knew Lockhart would miss, "but I have to go to bathroom now. Bye."

Ginny turned to dash out of the room, feeling her head pounding and trying to ignore the students giggling at her plight. She soon reached the girls' lavatory nearest Lockhart's classroom. It wasn't Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but the locale still made her think about the day she thought she had rid herself of Tom Riddle's diary. She wondered what really happened to it as she locked herself in a stall. She cried for awhile, surprised to find herself longing for the consolation Tom might have provided. No, she didn't have any desire to write to  _him_  anymore! She had made her choice to move on when she had thrown away the diary. And she was completely over Riddle now.

But she wasn't finished with him yet. Harry had Riddle's diary now. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. It seemed impossible, but there was no way she could have mistaken that book she had become so attached to over the past months. In a way it was pointless to wonder how it had happened. It was as though fate had deliberately chosen for her throwing away of the diary to have the worst outcome possible — as though it were punishing her. She had done the right thing — she had gotten rid of the diary, but apparently that wasn't good enough. Was she meant to confess — was that the only way she could properly own up to what she had done? Why wasn't she allowed to end this on her own terms with the remains of her dignity left intact?

Ginny wasn't sure why she was thinking this. She didn't really think she believed in fate anyway. Besides, how or why Harry had ended up with the diary was irrelevant. The pressing issue was what to do about it. What if Harry figured out how the diary worked? Ginny had figured it out the first time she set eyes on it and Harry wasn't particularly stupid, plus he would probably have Hermione helping him. If he did figure it out, would Riddle tell him everything? All her most embarrassing secrets — including her feelings about Harry —  _and_  her role in the opening of the Chamber? Would Harry, probably meaning well, report her? Was it cruel irony that flushing the diary had resulted in her facing the very fate she had tried to evade?

Ginny could at least presume her secret was safe at the moment. If Harry knew, he would have either confronted her or told someone. But she couldn't afford to waste any more time. She could tell Harry — or tell him through Hermione, if that made it easier — and then he would at least hear her side of the story first. But she had so not wanted Harry to know — that was one of the main possibilities she had been trying so hard to avoid all along.  _Why_  hadn't she told Hermione earlier? Hermione would have been so much more likely to feel sorry for Ginny if she had been told back in November. And then Ginny would never have found herself in this terrible fix.

If she wasn't going to tell Harry, she had but one option — steal back the diary. Those were her two choices; telling or stealing. Was it a coincidence that they were so clearly moral opposites? But, she reasoned, stealing the diary from Harry wouldn't really be  _that_  wrong. She had had it first and just because she was taking it back didn't mean she would be writing in it again. Besides, if Harry figured out how to work the diary, she could get expelled. She had to steal it to protect herself. She had that right, didn't she? After all, she had recognized what she was doing and stopped herself. Shouldn't she be allowed to move on without having her entire life ruined?

Ginny remembered a time long ago she had worried that keeping Riddle's diary might count as stealing. And now she was planning to  _actually_  steal — and steal the very same object, no less. But in the months since then she had attacked four denizens of the castle — she was so, so far beyond stealing now. What had she ever done to deserve this? Why was she being forced to keep a terrible secret and do something bad — stealing — to protect herself? She was mostly a good person. Well, everyone had done  _some_  bad things, but she didn't think she had ever done anything which made her deserve this.

How had she ended up in this mess? She couldn't help but thinking that if she was truly in the right, she shouldn't have to sneak and steal. Those early days of writing to Tom Riddle had been so innocent. There was no guilt back then — she had only been thrilled to have a friend who understood her feelings. When had it stopped being so innocent? When had she gone wrong? What would have been the right thing to do?

The walls of the stall around her made her feel closed in. If she had been claustrophobic, this may have upset her. Instead she felt rather safe, but lonely and separate. Ginny wanted to continue crying, but her tears seemed to be all used up. She wanted to cry so she could feel better as you always did after crying, but her tears were being stubborn and the cry she had just had hadn't made her feel much better at all. The hopelessness of it all hit her hard — even crying couldn't make her feel good anymore! In that moment, she would have given almost anything to not feel so miserable!

Did that include writing to Tom Riddle? Well, maybe it was lucky that that wasn't an option at the moment. She closed her eyes very tightly, but only a few tears came. She wanted out — she wanted out of this so badly! She had tried to do the right thing and get out of it, but it backfired. And now she had to steal to free herself. Her insides ached badly with the injustice of it all.

But Ginny wasn't going to lose hope. Just because it wasn't fair didn't mean she couldn't handle it.

* * *

Following that day, Ginny was terrified. Every second Harry spent in his dormitory, he could be writing in the diary and she could only imagine what Riddle might be telling him about her. She, however, did not think Harry could be possessed by Riddle as she had. She almost tried to convince herself that he could since it would make her feel that what happened to her could happen to anyone. But she knew it couldn't happen to Harry while he had Ron and Hermione. Riddle would be powerless against someone with real friends — this she knew for certain.

At least one minor good thing had come out of Valentine's Day. Sending Harry a valentine had apparently impressed Professor Lockhart so much that he had decided Ginny was now his favorite student among the first years. Ginny wouldn't have even cared about this were it not for the effect it had on Fleeta Fleece. Needless to say, Fleeta was not amused that the poor redheaded girl she delighted in mocking had usurped  _her_  position in Lockhart's class without even trying. Without Lockhart, Fleeta was no longer the most envied of the first-year girls, but she was much too self-deluded to have noticed it. Ginny considered this sweet revenge and delighted in seeing Fleeta struggle to make eye-rolling students continue to see her as the center of the universe.

But seeing Fleeta finally get her comeuppance could hardly make up for Ginny's fear that McGonagall might walk up to her at any moment and tell her that she was in  _very_  big trouble. Ginny felt no shame in thinking that she had been in over her head from the start. The circumstances she had found herself in were profoundly dangerous and serious — no one should have deal with them alone, especially not at the age of eleven. But she had made her choice to do just that back on Halloween when she hardly even comprehended the seriousness of what was happening. However, the way out of this was obvious enough — even if it would take a lot of guts.

It was awhile before Harry's dormitory was empty concurrently with Ginny having enough nerve to break into it. She got her chance the Friday before the Quidditch game she had been eagerly awaiting in the weeks before Valentine's Day, but had now almost forgotten about. As she often did by that point, she sat in the common room pretending to work on homework — her grades were struggling again — while keeping an eye on the staircase leading up to the boys' dormitory.

Ginny knew Harry shared his dormitory with her brother Ron, Neville Longbottom, and two other boys she recognized but didn't know the names of. She just had to wait until she knew all five of them were outside the dormitory and the common room was empty — then she could sneak up there and hope against hope that she wouldn't run into any boys on the stairway. If she did, she could always claim that she was going up there to visit Ron or something, but she guessed that she wouldn't be able to stop herself from looking nervous or that she might unthinkingly say something which gave something away.

At that moment, the tall black boy from Harry's dormitory was heading across the room. Ginny knew Harry, Ron, and Neville were elsewhere, so that only left one boy who might still be up there.

"Oh, hello there," said the black boy. "I don't believe I've met you before. You're Ron's sister, aren't you?"

"Yeah," said Ginny a little anxiously. "I'm Ginny."

"I'm Dean," the boy said. "I'm going to meet Seamus down by the lake. We're going to see if we can lure the giant squid to the surface so I can draw it."

"Seamus?" she asked.

"Yeah, you've probably seen him around," Dean explained. "He's that sandy-haired Irish bloke." Ginny's heart skipped a beat — that was the boy she hadn't been sure about, meaning Harry's dormitory must now be empty!

"And he's down by the lake now?" asked Ginny, trying not to sound too happy about this.

"Yeah," said Dean. "He's waiting there for me."

"Well, have fun!" said Ginny, eager for Dean to leave the common room. He was the only student in there other than her at the moment.

"Okay," Dean said. "Maybe our paths will cross again someday."

"Sure," replied Ginny, hardly listening as she thought about what she would have to do next. Dean left through the portrait hole. She waited a few moments to make sure he was really gone before she abandoned her work and rushed towards the boys' staircase.

She looked up the stairs she had seen every day, but never ascended. No one was in the common room to see her go up there — it was the perfect opportunity. Back at the Burrow, Ginny had been sneaking out to practice flying since the age of six and had never been caught. How would this be any different? She just had to be brave. Screwing up her courage, she ran up the stairs, thankfully not running into anyone, and ducked into the the second-year boys' room as quickly as possible. It was empty just as she had thought — not that she had doubted herself.

So far, so good. Now she just had to find that diary and get out of there as fast as possible without being seen. Her heart was racing, but the room was quiet — completely empty and still. As she had suspected, it resembled her own and Hermione's dormitories. Knowing she was in too far to go back now and might as well get this over with, she got down on her knees and crawled towards Harry's cabinet. She hesitated, but then pulled the drawer out and began throwing its contents out. She jumped when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.

Imagining how much trouble she would be in if she were seen going through Harry's things, she turned in the direction of the movement, but it was only Ron's rat Scabbers. Ron always complained about how useless Scabbers was, but at least he  _had_  a pet.

"Hello," she miserably muttered to Scrabbers. He was only a rat. He didn't understand the kind of complex emotions she was feeling. He didn't know what it felt like to betray people who trusted you to do the right thing. He probably didn't even know she wasn't supposed to be in there.

Once she finished with the cabinet, she climbed onto Harry's bed. Knowing she was where Harry slept every night sent a strange twinge through her body. She wanted to curl up under the covers and go to sleep right there. She imagined Harry finding her there and climbing into the bed to snuggle up with her even though she knew he would be much more likely to scream. Partly to help her resist the temptation to act out this weird fantasy and partly to check if the diary was there, Ginny began ripping Harry's bedclothes off and tossing them away behind her.

She did this very quickly and soon the bed was bare. She wouldn't be tempted to curl and sleep there  _now_. After that, she searched Harry's cloak, pulling out all the pockets and accidentally ripping it in her nervousness. Then her eyes drifted towards the dormitory's entrance and she saw, with a sharp jolt of her heart, that the door had swung open. How long had it been like that, allowing anyone passing to just look in and see what she was doing?

_Oh, Ginny, you're so stupid!_  she thought as she ran up and closed the door, hoping desperately that she somehow hadn't been seen.

Still diariless, she tired to think of where else Harry might keep that little black book when she spotted his trunk. Wondering how she could have been so stupid, she opened it and began throwing the contents out. If she hadn't been so scared that someone was about to walk in the door and catch her, she might have been happy to have the opportunity to look at Harry's things, but instead she hardly let her mind even register anything about each object other than it not being the one she sought.

And then she found Tom Riddle's diary at long last, placed among Gilderoy Lockhart's flashy books. To her surprise, she immediately hugged it. She had it back — all she would have to do is get back to her dormitory _. That's all I have to do_ , she thought while her heart beat so hard that she thought her chest might burst. It would all be okay. Once she had the diary back, she could destroy it in a more permanent way and everything would be all right again.

Ginny peeked out the door to check for anyone who might be out there. She saw Fred and George coming down the stairs and quickly slammed the door shut until their voices passed, thinking it was a wonder they hadn't heard her heart thumping. She opened the door again, and ran down the staircase to the common room. She'd made it.

She was out — she had the diary back — it was all over. It had been so easy she wondered why she had waited this long to do it. She was too happy to care about picking up the homework she had left out on a table. Instead, she headed straight up to her own dormitory. Kimmy and Lorelei were in there talking to each other.

"I'm not sure I want to go to the game tomorrow," said Lorelei gloomily. "Last time I was so scared that someone would get hit by one of the Blunders and die. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

" _Bludgers_ ," Ginny corrected automatically as she surreptitiously slid the diary back under her mattress. Ginny had not told Kimmy about Lorelei's secret. She thought Kimmy should know, but Ginny had made a promise and it was Lorelei's business anyway.

Ginny collapsed onto her bed. Somehow, it didn't seem as soft as Harry's had been, as though it had been cursed by all the times she had cried there.  _I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe_ , she thought, though it seemed no one had told her heart that. She felt quite proud of herself knowing that she had manged to pull this off. All she would have to do now was get rid of Riddle's diary for good. Not that she was tempted to write in it anymore, of course. She had gone a long time without Riddle and there was no way she could ever go back to him. She was beyond that now.

* * *

Ginny went to bed early that night and consequently woke up very early the next morning. She couldn't sleep, so she paced around, trying to think about the Quidditch match that would be taking place that day and not about how she was once again free to write to Tom Riddle. Having nothing else to do, she had already gotten dressed.

Writing to Tom Riddle was so much more tempting when she felt alone and was bored, but she knew what would happen if she gave in. She couldn't allow herself to do that. She did have to wonder how he might have responded if she wrote to him, especially if he'd been in communication with Harry. How would he feel about having her back? He probably wouldn't feel anything, she thought savagely, since he was nothing but an evil force which hurt people.

Ginny sat down on her bed. When she started to consider how she would destroy the diary, she found that she had very mixed feelings about doing it. She knew it  _had_  to be destroyed — going halfway was what had allowed Harry to get ahold of it last time. But she just didn't want it to be permanently destroyed even thought she knew it had to be. And part of her still wanted to take out the diary and start writing to Tom Riddle again.

Without really thinking about it, Ginny took out the diary and looked at it for a long time. Both love and hatred for it coursed through her body. It was amazing how she could have such strong and such opposite feelings about the same thing. Her hands shook and for a moment she was ready to run down into the common room that very instant and hurtle that horrible book right into the fireplace. But she didn't and the moment passed. Instead, she opened it and flipped through the blank pages. Had Harry written in any of them, she wondered.

It took a long time, long enough for the earliest traces of dawn to appear in the sky outside, but her resolve finally broke after countless minutes of flipping through the pages and wondering. She  _had_  to know how he would respond to having her back.

"Hello, Tom," she wrote, knowing he would recognize her handwriting. Her heart pounded uncontrollably as she watched the words disappear and Riddle's response fade in.

" _Hello again, Ginny. Are you feeling okay? I've been so worried about you."_

No, this was wrong! She couldn't do this. It was wrong, wrong, wrong! She slammed the diary shut, stuffed it under her mattress, and started to run out of the room. But she paused in the doorway. She got an idea. Did she dare? Well, she might as well. Ginny walked back to the bed, heart thumping louder than ever, and took out the diary.

"I feel wrong, Tom," she wrote. "Very wrong. I shouldn't be writing to you." There — she'd done it. She'd finally told him the truth about how he really made her feel. She was sure he must already know, but now he would have to acknowledge it and defend himself.

" _Why would you say such a thing, Ginny? I love you. I would never hurt you."_

Oh, so he was going to deny it. That was clever. Well, she would have to spell it out for him then. Her hands were sweaty and shaking as she dipped her quill into her ink bottle again.

"Well, every time I've lost my memory, the last thing I always remember is writing to you and —"

She had planned to write more, but her hand was shaking too much and the words faded away when she paused. Still, she'd done it. Now she just had to wait a few agonizing seconds to see how he would take it.

" _Oh, Ginny — poor Ginny. I realize how this must look from your point of view. You're an intelligent girl, so I couldn't have expected you to miss the unfortunate coincidences which point to my guilt. No doubt you have been told not to trust objects which appear to think for themselves without a brain. It would be very easy, though quite mistaken of you, to see this diary as such a Dark object. Unfortunately, I have no proof to offer you but my word. But you must know in your heart that I love you and would never hurt you in any way. Shouldn't that be enough?"_

Doubt descended over her. Could he possibly be telling the truth? He sounded so sincere. And it would be so sweet if he really loved her that much! But how else could she explain the attacks? He  _must_  be lying, but how could he be? No, he  _was_  lying! He was only telling her to look in her heart because he knew she loved him and he had no real proof. And he had no proof because he was lying! He was a liar — a terrible, evil liar who played with her delicate emotions like they were nothing!

Ginny shoved the diary under her blanket and flopped down on her bed to stare up at the ceiling. She  _would_  destroy the diary and permanently this time. Then this would all be over for good. Tears were in her eyes. A part of her wanted to write to Riddle about how she was feeling right now — about how she was essentially thinking of killing him. He would insist she not do that and tell her lies to defend himself, but at least she would be talking to someone about it. And she still felt so close to him. Her brain knew not to trust him, but her heart still thought she could tell him anything. He listened to her like no one else would and treated her feelings like they actually mattered. He didn't judge her for having stupid thoughts or tell her that she didn't know anything.

Ginny brought the diary into her arms. Once she was hugging it, an emptiness in her heart felt like it was filled. She didn't just love him, he was a part of her now! Maybe she wasn't a part of him, but he was certainly a part of her. It may have been one-way love, but there  _was_  real love. And it went beyond love now — beyond anything. She could no longer escape him. All she knew was that she loved him and she didn't care what he did to her. She tried to think of what he was making her do to others and how selfish it was of her to play with their lives, but her mind wouldn't take it in. She  _needed_  him! She could no longer be a full person without him.

"I do love you, Tom," she wrote eventually.

" _Very good, Ginny. I knew you would come around. Now tell me how you're feeling. I can make everything right. You just have to trust me completely."_

"I trust you, Tom."

* * *

The tapestry had quite an interesting design — the lines of thread weaving in and out so it was impossible to follow. It made Ginny's head hurt trying to figure it all out. Why was she looking at this? How had she gotten there? Suddenly, it hit hurt.

She knew it instantly.

She didn't have to rack her brains.

She had lost her memory again.

She thought desperately about what she might have been doing even though she knew it was in vain. There was no escaping it this time.

_Ginny!_  a voice in her head yelled.  _What have you done? You horrible, horrible person! What's_ wrong _with you? Someone could be dead for all you know! You could be a murderer right now!_

Shaking with the fear of that unspeakable possibility, Ginny turned around to see two people on the floor. They looked Petrified to her, but she didn't know how to check. And if she had known how, she would have been much too scared to do it — scared that they  _were_  dead.

They were Hermione and Percy's girlfriend Penny.


	17. Guilt and Innocence

If there was an emotion which felt worse than guilt, Ginny had never experienced it. In that moment, she really,  _really_  just hated herself. If she were another person, she would have punched herself in the face, kicked herself in the shins, pulled her hair, and beat herself to within an inch of her sorry life. Instead she just stood there, shacking and thinking that she hardly deserved to live.

Ginny might have run to avoid getting caught there if she had found herself in this situation months ago, but now she just didn't care anymore. Besides, she was poor innocent Ginny Weasley — no one would suspect  _her_  even if she were found at the scene of the crime. She collapsed to the floor right next to the bodies and let herself cry and cry. She didn't care about her dignity anymore. She didn't deserve dignity — in fact, she didn't deserve anything other than to be kicked and punched and hurt as much as possible. She was the lowest creature on the face of the earth!

Ginny had never thought her life could come to this. She thought back to that flying accident she had had at the age of six and how she had gone back to try flying again even though she knew she could get hurt again. She had been so brave and so innocent back then! She hadn't attacked anyone or daubed any threatening messages in blood. And Ginny was now sure that it  _was_  blood which that horrible message had been written in. What a silly little girl she had been all those months ago when she had convinced herself that it was  _red paint_  which she had tried desperately to wash off her hands and clothes! And as that blood had permanently stained her clothes so had it stained her soul. She could never be an innocent little girl again after her clothes were so stained with blood!

It was a bitter irony that Ginny had spent her entire life longing desperately to be older, for it would only be when she was older that she would be allowed to do anything, and right now she wanted nothing more than to be very, very little again — like maybe five years old or so. Everything was easy when you were five. If anything went wrong when you were five, you could simply go to your mum and dad and expect that they would fix everything. If you ever felt sorry for anything, you knew it would go away after you told your parents. In fact, you never had to think about anything. Five was even before she had begun her secret broomstick practice, so she hadn't even had to think about that.

Ginny remained there for what seemed like a long time and the events which followed became a blur soon afterwards; Professors McGonagall and Flitwick finding her there crying; Ginny telling them an easy lie that she had come across the scene by chance; finding out that the bodies were thankfully —  _so_  thankfully — only Petrified before she was sent up to Gryffindor Tower; the rest of the students filtering in soon after she got there to hear McGonagall announce stricter rules for their own safety — all Quidditch games canceled until further notice and no longer going anywhere in the castle unaccompanied by a teacher. The end of McGonagall's speech, however, would stand out firmly and painfully in Ginny's mind.

"I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed," she had said. "It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

Ginny almost felt like McGonagall was addressing her directly, telling her that she couldn't hide anymore and might as well surrender herself. Destroying the diary would no longer stop this — this wouldn't end until a culprit was caught and properly punished. And she  _was_  the culprit. No one else could be caught because there was no one else. It would have to be her. Or the school closed. Ginny thought of all the children, who, like her, couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts and would now never get their chance. All thanks to her.

Ginny staggered up to her empty dormitory. She looked around for something to hit herself with. Her mother didn't like it when Ginny hit herself with anything, even if it was something which wouldn't really hurt her, but right now she didn't care. She noticed Tom Riddle's diary was still lying open on her bed. How come she sometimes ended up having the diary with her when she lost her memory, but other times she didn't? Did it mean Riddle was stronger? Had his powers drained at all in the time she hadn't written to him?

Suddenly overcome by rage, she threw Riddle's diary across the room. It simply landed on the floor without being satisfactorily damaged in any way. Still feeling angry, Ginny kicked her bed, meaning to hurt herself more than it. She did hurt herself, but not enough. She wanted to see damage — and she wanted to feel as hurt on the outside as she felt on the inside! Ginny dived into her bed and started flailing herself in the head with her pillow. It wasn't a very hard object, so she had to make up for that by hitting herself repeatedly every second. However, her aggression left her and she eventually collapsed onto her face.

Still holding the pillow in her right hand, she wept into her bed's sheet. Knowing that Hermione and Penny — whose full name, Ginny had learned, was Penelope Clearwater — were only Petrified did not make Ginny feel much better. She was sure she would feel worse if they  _were_  dead, but this way it didn't seem to make much of a difference. They  _could_  have been dead and it wasn't any feat of Ginny's that had prevented that. She may not have been a murderer, but she might as well have been. And either way, they were currently gone from Ginny's life.

Ginny hadn't really known Hermione that well, but somehow that made it hurt even more. Ginny estimated that they had probably spoken to each other less than twenty times — perhaps even less than ten times — over the course of the entire year. Yet Ginny had planned since November that she would tell Hermione about Riddle if she told anyone. The logic by which Ginny had settled on her had almost become irrelevant — Hermione had simply come to represent the way out of this. And now she was gone by Ginny's own hand.

As for Penny, Ginny had spent months worrying that Percy suspected her and that he might take it out on her if Penny was attacked. The more Ginny thought about it, the more she realized that the victims could not have been two worse choices. Not that she would have wanted anyone attacked, of course. Had Riddle chosen them on purpose? Either way, it drove home the fact that Ginny had successfully managed to doom herself and seal her own fate.

Ginny lifted her head up from her bed to see Riddle's diary still lying on the floor. She would have to pick it up and hide it again to prevent her dorm mates from seeing it. Of course, Kimmy had already seen it, but that was only once and it wouldn't be in her character to search through Ginny's things to sneak another look at it. But Ginny didn't feel like bothering anymore. She didn't have anything to fight for now. No matter how things went, they wouldn't end well for her, so what was the point of even trying?

Ginny sat up to look out her window at the early morning fog drifting over the empty Quidditch pitch and, for the first time in her life, seriously contemplated suicide...

* * *

If Ginny thought things couldn't get any worse, she was proven very wrong the next day. That morning, the students arrived in the Great Hall to find Dumbledore and Hagrid gone. McGonagall explained that Dumbledore had been suspended by the school governors for failing to stop the attacks and that Hagrid had been sent to Azkaban on suspicion of opening the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny had no idea why anyone would think it was a good idea to send the greatest living wizard away during this troubled time. If Dumbledore couldn't stop the attacks, who exactly did they think  _could_?

As "Loony" Lovegood grimly pointed out, this fit her theory that Lockhart was a Ministry spy who had faked the opening of the Chamber to get rid of Dumbledore. Indeed, the day Dumbledore was sent away saw Lockhart begin trying to convince them all that the danger had passed. No one bothered to challenge Luna's theory anymore. Fleeta Fleece had naturally decided Lockhart was "an idiot" rather soon after he started liking Ginny more than her. And while Lockhart still had a few loyal fangirls, most of his female admirers were starting to see him for the fool he was.

And why did they think Hagrid had opened the Chamber anyway? Already feeling guilty about only talking to Hagrid once since October, Ginny couldn't help but wonder if it was something she had done which made them suspect him. Worst of all, Hagrid's fate further sealed her own. If she destroyed the diary and stopped the attacks now, everyone would think it had been Hagrid after all. She couldn't let that happen. Confessing was now truly her only option.

But not only did she not do it, she couldn't even tear herself out of Riddle's grasp. It was outright shameful that Ginny did not stop writing in the diary. She wrote in it very little by now, but she knew that she shouldn't be writing in it at all. And worst of all she knew in her heart that her reduced use of the diary had less to do with resistance and more to do with not getting much joy out of it anymore. Writing to Riddle simply made her feel too guilty to enjoy it even a little. Which she thought was as it should be, but it  _should_  have been so the minute she figured out how that diary worked.

Ginny never stopped feeling scared and guilty — she just went about her day trying to act normal. However, with most of the school feeling miserable about the Chamber, Ginny hardly stood out. But it had gone so far now that she often found herself feeling physically ill, which she tended to use as an excuse to cut class. As she really did feel sick, she didn't think this was exactly dishonest, but it still made her feel guilty — just like everything else in her life made her feel guilty now. Crying was starting to come so naturally to her that she once burst into tears in the middle of class for absolutely no reason at all. Unable to so much as visit the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher, she couldn't even cry in private, but she didn't care who saw her tears anymore. She didn't even care when Fleeta took to gleefully asking her whether she would start wearing nappies as well. But such was the state of the school that even Fleeta stopped finding her taunting fun rather quickly.

Ginny had mostly stopped considering suicide. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that feeling like you wanted to die and actually killing yourself were two very different things. Instead, she thought about simply running away — away from her family and Hogwarts and everything she loved and cared about. She even made plans in her head for how she would get away and so forth. If she did run away, she wasn't sure where she would go or how she would survive, but what mostly deterred her was knowing that she would probably give up and go back after a few hours at most. In all the books Ginny had read, that was what always happened to any kid who tried running away.

In any case, the current state of things was intolerable. Hermione was Petrified, Hagrid couldn't come back until everything was resolved, and the school was on the brink of closing. Everything was telling Ginny she simply  _had_  to take responsibility whatever the consequences would be. But she was just too scared. How would Harry and Ron feel if they knew she had nearly murdered their closest friend? She certainly knew how thrilled her parents would be to learn that their only daughter had betrayed everything they had ever taught her about right and wrong. She just so,  _so_ wanted to end this without anyone knowing. But she didn't have that option anymore.

For reasons which were completely beyond Ginny, Professor McGonagall, who was acting Headmistress, decided to go ahead with the end of year exams. Ginny couldn't possibly have twisted her troubled mind into a state receptive to study and she only went through the motions to stop Percy from nagging her. But she knew it was hopeless and that she would fail horribly. And the fact that she was probably on a sure-fire path to taking her first year over again was depressingly the  _least_  of her problems, especially considering the school might not even be open for her second first year.

On the morning three days before the exams started — seventy-two hours before doomsday — Ginny awoke feeling awful. As usual, she felt no inclination to get out of bed to face yet another day of tedious misery. When she did get up, Ginny and her dorm mates dressed and prepared to go downstairs in silence. Fleeta hadn't even bothered to insult anyone's clothes in a long time, though Ginny suspected Fleeta's unhappiness resulted mostly from her no longer being Lockhart's class pet.

After Fleeta left the room with a weird dispirited version of a strut, Ginny noticed Kimmy looking at her. Kimmy was concerned about her. She didn't know Ginny was the cause of all this. She thought Ginny was just another worried student like her. Kimmy would surely hate Ginny if she knew the truth, but she didn't and so she felt sorry for her instead.

"Kimmy," said Lorelei in a very small voice, breaking the silence. "Kimmy, I've — I've decided I have to — to tell you something." Ginny thought she knew where this was going and turned to leave, knowing there would be a high degree of awkwardness.

"Wait, don't go," insisted Lorelei. "Please stay." Ginny turned around and Lorelei locked eyes with her. Lorelei's wide green eyes were asking Ginny to tell Kimmy for her. Ginny replied with own her eyes that Lorelei ought to do it herself. Lorelei sighed.

"Kimmy, I'm — I'm half-nymph," she said, blushing as she said this. As Ginny had suspected, Kimmy clearly did not see any significance to this.

"She was afraid you wouldn't like her anymore," Ginny explained eventually.

"Oh, of course I still like you!" Kimmy said at once. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm less than human," Lorelei mumbled.

"Oh, no you're not!" exclaimed Kimmy, taking Lorelei in her arms. Tears began to run down Lorelei's oddly ethereal face, but Ginny knew the half-naiad witch would be happier and fuller inside from that moment on. If only the same could ever be true of Ginny...

"I th-thought you would still like me," said Lorelei, "but I was sc-cared. I'm such a mess of emotions! I don't m-mean to be that way — I think my brain's just messed up from me being... you know. But I had to tell you now. The school will probably c-close soon and I wanted to tell you before — before we never see each other again."

And thus Ginny left the dormitory feeling worse than ever. As she passed through the room with the bronze fish sculptures, she thought of what a disaster she had created for everyone. She knew Lorelei's father was cold and distant and that Kimmy was the only friend Lorelei had ever had. By causing the school to close, Ginny was splitting them up forever...

Breakfast in the Great Hall was as miserable an affair as ever until McGonagall spoke up with some unexpected words.

"I have good news," she said, causing the room to erupt with cheers. Ginny didn't join in, instead staring at her rolls as though they were tap-dancing. She was sure that this news, whatever it was, would not be good for her.

"Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last," McGonagall continued when the hall finally quieted down. "Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

Most people — except most of the Slytherins, of course — were cheering this news, but Ginny was obviously left with a problem. What if one of them had seen her attack them? For some reason, this hadn't occurred to her in the many times she had considered destroying the diary. So flushing the diary wouldn't have worked anyway — that figured. What would everyone think of her when they found out? She would be disgraced in front of the whole school if not the entire wizarding world.

She had to tell someone now and let her side be heard first. It was so pathetic that she was only coming forward when she was in danger of being found out, but that was still less pathetic than it would be to wait until the victims gave testimony and she would have to explain why she hadn't said anything. She knew telling wouldn't make her feel whole or complete as she was sure Lorelei had felt when she told Kimmy her secret. Ginny's secret was a far less innocent one — telling it would hurt and hurt a lot, but it had to be done.

Why couldn't she have done this earlier when she could have gone to Hermione? But it was her own fault that Hermione was Petrified. And now there was only one person left whom she could tell — who might be able to help her, if only a little. All along he had been almost the very last person she had wanted to know, but now she had no choice.

She would have to tell Harry Potter.


	18. Too Little, Too Late

With a pounding heart and sweaty palms, Ginny stood up and began to walk anxiously towards famous Harry Potter. It seemed to take her forever to reach him — like a distant coastline, he never appeared to get much closer. This was it — the time when she would finally speak to him — but it was not going to be at all the way she had wanted it to be.

In a way, it was funny how this had all started when Ginny ran away to prevent Harry from seeing her covered in blood next to Mrs. Norris' body and now she would be trying to end it all by actually  _telling_  him about that — and more. It made her feel painfully aware that everything could have been avoided in that moment if she had just stayed put. At the very least, she wouldn't have had to deal with this all on her own. And it would have been so much easier to let Harry find out then than it was going to be to tell him now. That, she decided, was when she had ceased to be an innocent bystander in all this — when she made her choice to keep it all to herself and could only continue to do so when the secret became bigger and more horrible.

Ginny sat down next to Ron. She took a few steadying breaths to try and calm herself down. She had to do this — she just had to get the words out as quickly as she could and hope for the best.

"What's up?" asked Ron, obviously not realizing the importance of what she was about to say.

Ginny quickly glanced up and down the Gryffindor table. She wished that Ron and everyone except Harry would all just go away, but privacy was a luxury she couldn't afford anymore. If she had wanted to talk to someone in private about this, she should have talked to Hermione a long, long time ago. And how dreadfully ironic was it that there were many times in which she had not told Hermione because Harry was there? Harry whom she would be telling now.

"Spit it out," Ron told her suddenly. This wasn't as easy as it must have sounded to him, but she tried to do so. She formed her words carefully, knowing she wouldn't be able to take them back.

"I've got to tell you something," she mumbled, careful to not look at Harry as she felt a strange vacuum forming inside her chest. Would this truly be the moment she finally let another soul know her deepest, darkest secret?

"What is it?" asked Harry.

What should she say? There was so much to explain! Where should she start? With the Chamber of Secrets? The attacks? The diary? She still couldn't believe she was actually doing this. But she had to go on. She simply  _had_  to.

" _What?_ " asked Ron when she didn't say anything.

Ginny would start with the diary. She would begin by admitting she had stolen it from Harry. It would be best to start small like that. She opened her mouth, but there seemed to be something wrong with her vocal cords. She couldn't do it — she just  _couldn't_. She had kept this secret for too long.

No, she would say it and that was that! She just had to speak a few words and then, for better or worse, it would all be over. She worded what she was going to say next very, very carefully and tried to keep herself calm. Harry would understand — once he knew what she had been through, he would understand.

Maybe he would even  _like_  her a little, though she doubted it. Such things didn't really matter anymore anyway.

Harry leaned closer to her — his brilliant green eyes were directly on her for the second time in her life.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked in a whisper so that only she and Ron could hear. "Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

Harry had, of course, meant this encouragingly, but it just made Ginny feel even more guilty. However, it also made her feel that Harry was pretty smart — her secret would be safe with him and he would know what to do. Maybe he wouldn't think much of her anymore, but he would certainly want to help her, especially once he saw how sorry she was. She took a deep breath and was just about to bring up Riddle's diary when —

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty."

It was Percy. Ginny jumped to her feet and, after giving Percy what she hoped was a pleading look, ran off for Gryffindor Tower. She couldn't say what she needed to say in front of  _Percy_  — not right under her strict prefect brother's unsympathetic eye. Her secret wouldn't be a secret long if  _he_ heard it.

"Miss Weasley!" Snape shouted after her. "No roaming the castle unaccompanied by a teacher! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Ginny ignored him and he made no effort to stop her — she supposed he had just wanted an excuse to take points from Gryffindor. But she didn't care about Gryffindor anymore. In fact, she didn't care about much of anything. She felt so frustrated! She had come so close to letting her secret out and it wasn't even her own guts that had failed her this time. For most of her journey up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, she was very angry at Percy even though he couldn't have possibly known what he was interrupting. She even started to irrationally think that maybe Percy had known all along just as she had thought and that he was planning to hand her in so he could become a hero.

By the time she reached her dormitory, Ginny's anger had faded. After all, if Percy had wanted to hand her in, he would have done it months ago. Feeling very sick inside, she allowed herself to collapse onto her bed. She pulled Tom Riddle's diary out and held it tightly in her hands — the same hands that had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Her heart was racing, but she took the diary and brought it into her arms — it had been awhile since she had last hugged it like that.

_Please Tom, help me_ , she thought as tears welled up in her eyes.  _Harry, Hermione, Mum, Dad, anyone — please help me!_

Wiping her eyes, Ginny decided right then and there that she wasn't going to write in that diary ever again. She would show that Tom Riddle. He didn't own her, she owned  _him_. He lived in  _her_  diary.  _She_  could destroy him —  _he_  ought to be thanking  _her_  for letting him live. His life was in  _her_ hands. She didn't even need to destroy the diary to not write in it — she could resist it all on her own.

Not that it would do much good now.

She looked down at the diary — the little black book with the name "T. M. Riddle" written on it. This manipulative little book was the heart of all her grief. It was really a powerful and scary object, but it looked so plain and unassuming — truly you could never judge a book by its cover. She opened it and flipped through the pages, thinking about the first time she had seen it. What she wouldn't give to have known back then what this diary really was. It was all so painful…

Ginny stared at the first page, which was pretty much the only page she had ever written on, and put her hand on it, wishing she could somehow pull all the ink back out of the page. She felt so hurt, miserable, hungry — she hadn't eaten any breakfast — and guilty. Without even thinking, she gently picked up her quill with her right hand and absent-mindedly dipped it in ink. She held the quill above the page with a shaking hand…

But she wasn't going to write in it. She had stopped writing in the diary forever just a few moments ago. In fact, the last time she had written to him was almost two days ago, so it actually hadn't started just now. Eventually, she thought angrily, Riddle would wither away and die without her. She would make him feel sorry for what he had done to her!

Apparently her hand didn't feel the same way because it began writing on the page almost as though it were a reflex. Old habits died hard, apparently.

"Tom!" her hand wrote. "They're going to be reviving all the Petrified people today and they'll find out I did it! Oh Tom, please help me! I don't want to be expelled!"

" _Enter the Chamber of Secrets, Ginny."_

Something inside Ginny's head snapped — this didn't make any sense.

"What?" she wrote back.

" _You will enter the Chamber of Secrets. I will take you there. Then we will end this all my way."_

"So it was you all along!" she wrote in half-shock.

" _Of course it was me, you foolish child! Your capacity for denial and self-delusion amazes me even after knowing you this long."_

Ginny sat in stunned silence. Not only had Riddle just admitted to everything, he had never spoken to her in such a condescending way before. She now knew for certain that she ought to throw the diary aside, but something had come over her and she couldn't stop herself from writing back.

"Well, I'll hand you then!" she wrote furiously. "I don't even care if they expel me or send me to Azkaban anymore! At least you'll be destroyed!"

" _No, Ginny Weasley, you had your chance. And you failed. Now you are mine!"_

Suddenly she snapped upright, feeling a strange throbbing pain in her head. For some reason, she gently picked up the diary and held it to her chest.

She felt a great pain form inside of herself — one that made her want to cry.

Her heart slowed down and then sped up again. Her skin was all prickly.

A great emptiness filled up inside her — an emptiness so deep that it made her feel as though under the guise of her plain body was darkness so deep that it was beyond imagination.

She didn't even feel like she was Ginny Weasley anymore — her Self was ebbing away — fading into the dark emptiness that was consuming her. She seemed to be forgetting where she was and her eyes kept slipping in and out of focus. She tried to focus them and eventually decided that she would just lie down and sleep for awhile. Maybe she would feel better when she woke up.

That was when she realized she had absolutely no control over her body.

Ginny stood up, holding the diary under her arm, and walked — with someone else's gait — across the empty dormitory and towards the door. She couldn't do anything. She couldn't even blink.  _He_  had complete control over her.

This couldn't be happening. It  _wasn't_  happening. But couldn't this simply be Riddle taking her over again? But how could that be? Every time she had been possessed she hadn't remembered anything afterwards. But what if, when she regained control of herself again, she would forget all this? Her blood ran cold — that would make it just like all the others times after all. Who would he make her attack this time? Then she realized that Kimmy was the only Muggle-born she knew who hadn't been attacked yet. And now she was probably about to become the first killing! Ginny would watch helplessly through her own eyes as she murdered her dorm mate!

As Ginny was walked down the girls' staircase and into the empty common room like a marionette, golden sunlight flooded in through the windows — it was rather strange that she could be in such dire jeopardy while in such familiar surroundings. As she headed out the portrait hole and down stairways and corridors, she found herself desperately wishing she could at least cry. She couldn't have, of course, because  _her_  eyes were gone — she now had someone else's eyes…

When Ginny stopped walking, she cleared his eyes — which had replaced her eyes — to see where she was. She saw she was standing right before the twelve words everyone in the school knew by now:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Ginny felt a strange sense of pride rise up in her as his twisted smile creased her lips. She walked towards the writing, feeling as though something very important was about to happen. He had been waiting for this for a long time and now it was finally here. Ginny, on the other hand, was panicking, but her Self was growing weaker...

She  _had_  to be mad now! And dangerous! She needed to be locked up somewhere and kept away from everybody else! She  _wanted_  to get caught now —

It was the only way —

He carefully opened the diary with her hands, causing her to feel a profusion of conflicting emotions all at once. Dark smears covered the pages and he dipped her fingers into it. It was the blood — probably from the roosters she had killed. Now she knew why she had had the diary with her whenever she had killed roosters or written messages.

He wrote on the wall, with her filthy hand, a new message right below the old one.

_Please,_ she though wildly.  _Let someone come. Let them find me and kill me — it's the only way to stop him. Before I'm gone forever..._

He then stepped her away from the wall so that he could admire his handiwork through her eyes.

HER SKELETON WILL LIE

IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER.

Who was "her"? Then it hit her — it was herself. She would die in the Chamber of Secrets and remain there — forever.

She walked past the fresh graffiti and into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. Everything was going exactly how it was supposed to. Soon she would be dead and that was what he wanted. When she stopped walking, she forced his eyes to slid back into focus, which took some effort, and saw her pale face in the bathroom mirror, but it didn't seem to be her — maybe only a half or a quarter her, but not really her. Her eyes — they were not her eyes —

They were his eyes.

His eyes grew hungrier and, using her mouth, he spoke. A strange hissing noise escaped her lips that would have made her hair stand up on end had she been in her normal state. It rang in her ears as she began to panic as she had never panicked before. The dark vacuum inside of her was growing and filling up more of her body — there was less of her Self than ever. If she could have controlled herself, she would have run out into the corridor screaming and crying for help — all dignity forgotten.

She watched the sink in front of her slid down into the ground, much the way she felt her heart sinking away, revealing a giant pipe that descended into darkness. She could still feel the cold emptiness inside her greedily consuming her body — soon there would be nothing of her Self left and then she would  _be_  him. The void inside of her felt so empty that it made her feel as though underneath her skin there was nothing but deep blackness which was ultimately nothing.

She was nothing under the surface… but  _him_.

Ginny felt herself jump down into the dark pipe. She was speeding downward and could hardly see anything, but she couldn't scream or even close her eyes. Eventually, she did the only thing she could — she let her eyes slip back out of focus. What should she do now? There was no escape, so she couldn't try to think of one — every second she got further and further away from all the teachers and adults who could help her. What were you  _supposed_  to think about in the last moments of your life?

Ginny forcefully hit the ground and found herself lying in a dark underground tunnel filled with the scattered bones of small animals. Feeling even more dead than they were, she found herself wishing she could remain lying there forever, but he got her up and purposefully walked her down the tunnel. She walked through the darkness, which her eyes had not yet adjusted to, feeling as though this was a route programmed into her. All was lost — there was no point trying or even wishing now.

After what felt like hours of walking, she eventually reached a wall with stone snakes carved into it. They had glowing emerald eyes — they were more alive than her — than  _him_. The strange hissing was again formed in his throat and came out her mouth. The wall opened, revealing a huge chamber — the Chamber of Secrets. There was a statue of Salazar Slytherin at the other end of the room that went all the way up to the ceiling and along the side walls were snake-entwined pillars.

This was it — they had been searching for this hidden chamber for a millennium and she got to see it — in the final moments of her short life —

Her legs felt stiff by now, but he began walking her towards the statue of Slytherin as though to greet him. She heard the wall close behind her. She was locked in — forever. She felt as though her fear was piling up inside of her and about to blow her up and pop her like a balloon. She felt as though the world was closing in on her and, in just a few moments, it would smash her to death. She stopped in front of the huge statue of Slytherin and looked up at his face.

Then something wonderful happened — she felt an indescribable warmness fill up the dark emptiness inside of her. For just that one moment, she had an extremely strong feeling of relief and wholeness.

However, an instant later her body started shacking and a great terror swept through her. Her heart pounded and she found herself feeling small, jittery, and vulnerable. Her feet slipped, her legs entangled each other, and a high-pitched scream escaped her lips, echoing off the stone walls. Her hands instinctively went out to break her fall and she found herself in a heap on the cold Chamber floor.

Though she now had bruises all over her body, particularly her legs and hands, a smile broke out across her face — this must mean she had regained control of herself. She tried to move her hand in front of her face and it worked. She had never really thought about how conveniently she could just will the parts of her body to move and they did as she wished. For a few moments, she sat on the floor marveling at how complex her hands were and at the many ways they could move.

After losing interest in her hands, Ginny looked up at the Chamber, heart still racing, as she thought about how trapped she was down there. She didn't even have her wand or anything else with her except the clothes she was wearing and Tom Riddle's diary. And where was his diary anyway? She shakily forced herself to her feet and turned to see it had landed open next to Salazar Slytherin's toes.

But she didn't get it. She would have been happy to leave the little black diary lying there for eternity — why, she didn't know. It just seemed like an appropriate place for it.

Though she was locked alone deep underground in the Chamber of Secrets, Ginny realized things could have been far worse. She was tired and shivering with the cold, but she was safe and  _alive_. In fact, she was probably the only thing in the whole place which wasn't made from cold, hard stone. But she didn't feel that lonely — in fact, strangely enough, she felt a bit secure. No one could get her done there — and she couldn't get anyone…

Ginny sat back down on the damp floor and looked around at the magnificent room which surrounded her. She was probably the first person to be in the Chamber for a long time and the first female to be in the Chamber  _ever_. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself. The Chamber of Secrets was an odd sort of place, but impressive just the same. Even with magic, it must have taken a lot of work to build. Why did Salazar Slytherin go to all trouble of building such a majestic room if nobody but his Heir would ever get to see it? That seemed like a bit of a waste. Well, she was getting to see it anyway.

Ginny figured he went with the snake theme because the symbol for Slytherin House was a serpent. Or could it mean the monster was a snake? Since Slytherin had been a Parselmouth, that would explain how the Heir would be able to control it. Ginny couldn't think of any way she could protect herself if that monster snake came along. Or would it be nice to her, seeing how she had apparently set it on her classmates without ever even getting to remember seeing it? Of course, she couldn't stay down there forever anyway — she would starve to death unless she froze to death first. Well, at least it was quiet so she could think. That was more than you could say for the Gryffindor common room in the afternoon.

Ginny tried to stand up again to assess her surroundings, but she didn't have the energy. She was sure she hadn't had that little energy when she had sat down and she had been resting, so she should have had more energy. She was also becoming considerably more aware of how cold it was and noticed she had started shivering like mad. Well, she could cope. She hugged her legs to her chest for warmth, but it helped very little.

But she just felt so tired. She wished there was somewhere comfortable for her to lie down even though she wouldn't have been able to move herself there. She was hungry — she had no idea how long it had been since the breakfast she hadn't eaten — and her head hurt badly. It was quite uncomfortable sitting on the hard Chamber floor, but she tried to concentrate on thinking of a way she could get out of this. If she ever did, she would  _definitely_  tell someone what was happening to her.

Then she noticed that the pages of Tom Riddle's diary were glowing as though there was some light source underneath them. At first she just thought it was just the way the light was hitting them, but it soon became quite evident that something was happening. As the pages glowed brighter, Ginny grew weaker and her heart beat faster and faster. She was getting colder and colder as though her life and the warmth it brought her was slowly draining out of her. When her body was as cold as the hard Chamber floor, she would surly be as dead as it was.

The way the pages were glowing gave Ginny a very bad feeling and she felt she needed to get as far away from them as possible. Still unable to stand, she crawled across the floor, occasionally glancing nervously back at the diary. But her knees kept slipping and she only managed to get a few paces away. But she couldn't give up. She had to get away before something awful happened, because she felt certain that something very, very awful was about to happen — something she could never allow to happen.

But at the same time she felt that getting away from the diary would be pointless. There was a connection between her and it that could never be broken no matter how far from it she was. Suddenly, at exactly the moment Ginny felt a huge amount of energy leave her, there was a flash of light and a black-haired head began to slowly rise out of the diary.

Ginny instantly knew this was Tom Riddle. He greeted her with a cold, sharp laugh which didn't fit him at all. She didn't know what she had imagined he would look like, but his appearance was definitely a surprise. She had known he was older than her, but until now it never really struck her how  _old_  sixteen was compared to eleven. Come to think of it, he was the same age as  _Percy_! And as shallow as it seemed, she couldn't help but observing that Riddle was quite handsome in a much-too-old-for-her kind of way — she certainly hadn't expected  _that_. Not that she had thought he would be ugly or anything.

She didn't know what was going to happen or what he would do to her, but she was sure it wouldn't be at all pleasant. She  _had_  to get out of there, but what was the point of moving when she wouldn't have been able to escape anyway? She slipped a final time and hit the ground with a small thud. Lying face down on the floor and unable to get up again, she could only turn herself around to watch in horror as Tom Riddle continued to rise out of her diary. She felt much too tired, hungry, and outright scared to think well, as hard as she tried to put it all from her mind.

_I'm going to die_ , she thought in a sudden panic.  _I'll never grow up. I'll never have a decent conversation with Harry. I'll never get married and have children. I'll never show my brothers how good I am at flying. I'll never do anything ever again. It's all going to be over in a few moments…_

She was all alone — perfectly and completely alone. No one would get down there to save her — ever. No one had for a thousand years, so what was the chance that someone would make it down there while she was still alive? Besides, the time that she would be alive seemed to be shrinking rapidly. She couldn't do anything about it and there was only one person who could save her — Tom Riddle. She knew he wouldn't help her, but she had to try.

"Tom!" she cried out loudly. "P-please — don't let me die…"

For all the notice he took, she might just as well have said nothing. She knew it was no use — she was going to die. After all she had been through and all those years of waiting desperately to go to Hogwarts, she would die without even finishing her first year. There was no reason for her to hold her tears in any longer and so she started bawling. She wanted to be in her comfy four-poster bed with its warm scarlet bedding and deep soft pillow. Maybe if she closed her eyes tightly enough, she could convince herself that she was there and then she would die peacefully. But she really, really didn't want to die at all.

"P-please, I'll d-d-do anything!" she begged desperately. "I p-promise!  _Anything!_ "

But it was useless — there was nothing he wanted from her but her life and she knew it.

"Ginny Weasley," Tom Riddle said suddenly in a voice which made her feel worthless, "it is fascinating to see that even now you retain your naïve faith in me. You see, you're going to die here and I'm not going to do anything about it."

"Please, Tom, p-p-please!" she shouted frantically, stretching her arm out towards the diary.

Tears were running profusely down her face, but Riddle just laughed at the sight of them as he stepped out of the diary. He was now fully formed though with a misty outline around himself. Ginny continued to cry, gasp for breath and sniff through her stuffy nose, occasionally uttering the word "please." He must not have been looking at her, because she must have looked so forlorn by now that no soul could have resisted grabbing her outstretched arm and helping her back to her feet.

Instead, he walked importantly towards her — much like Percy did before punishing someone — and stopped right before her. If her middle finger had been just a little longer, she could have just touched his foot. Ginny tried to make eye contact with him, but his eyes were beyond her line of vision. She was feeling so many painful emotions at once that she couldn't have identified even one of them. Her forehead felt like it was burning, but her blood seemed to have been replaced by ice water.

She wanted out. She wanted her life back, but knew it would never happen.

Never.

"I — I l-loved you, Tom," she sobbed. "I r-r-really did! D-didn't you love me too? At — at l-l-least a little?"

"No, not even a little," said Riddle, sounding actually proud of this. "You're a completely unremarkable child, Ginny Weasley. It's so sad how unique you think you and your problems are when in reality you're exactly like every other eleven-year-old girl. In fact, you did not interest me at all until the attacks began. It was quite entertaining watching your little brain struggle with the dilemma. A bit like smashing a fly with a sledgehammer, really."

Riddle's words cut into Ginny like a sharp dagger, hurting her far more than any insult which had ever been directed at her before — and it was coming from the person she had poured her heart out to. So many times he had called her brave or smart or grown-up and all that time he had been laughing at her for eating it up, thinking she was the silly little girl her family thought she was! And the way she had handled this pretty much proved he was right!

Such was her situation that she could hardly even think about how hurt those words made her feel. She had lapsed into sobbing loudly, but she didn't care — she just wanted to let her emotions out. There wasn't anything else left for her to do. Her eyes were so filled with tears that she could hardly see. She wasn't crying only for herself, but also for her family. They would be so sad and they would miss her so much. And they weren't even going to have a body to bury. She, however, wasn't sure whether or not she was happy that they wouldn't know the truth of how she had ended up like this.

"I did make one error," admitted Riddle while still sounding like he was gloating. "I knew you were becoming suspicious of me, but I underestimated it. Had I known, I would have confronted it directly as I did when you got the diary back. But that was a tiny aberration — for the most part, you played easily and predictably into my plans — in fact, it was almost tedious how easy it was. As convenient a vessel as you were, your death will be no great loss."

Ginny didn't have the energy to keep her eyes open and the dark stone bricks of the floor became covered in blackness. They would be the last thing she would ever see. Her life had been so short — and it would end now. She was only eleven — she was so, so not ready to die — the permanency of it was too much to even think about. If she had known, for all those years she had thought and wondered about her future, that she wouldn't live to see her twelfth birthday…

_How_  could he do this to her? She had known or at least strongly suspected for a long time that Riddle wasn't really her friend, but how could he be  _this_  callous after being so nice to her for so long? Her body felt weak and her clothes were sticking to her cold, lifeless skin, but she couldn't give up — she had to keep trying — where there was a will there was a way. She could still vaguely hear Riddle talking, but she only caught him saying her name a few times and the word "diary" once.

"Please…" she said in small voice, using up about a quarter of her remaining energy. It would be the last thing she ever said.

Breathing now seemed to take a lot of effort. She focused all her energy on breathing in and out. In and out. With each breath, she felt relieved to still be alive. Her body didn't feel very alive though — more like an large immovable boulder except for her pounding heart. It was incredible that, perhaps less than five minutes ago, her body could have been moved around as easily as thinking. But as long as she could feel her damp clothes against her skin and the cold, hard floor on her body, she knew she was still alive.

Ginny wanted her parents or at least someone to just be with her even if nothing could be done. The person she would have wanted the most would have been her mother. True, her mother was overprotective and never let her do anything, but she was still her mother. Her mother had brought her into the world — it would be fitting for her to be there when she left it. Ginny at least deserved the chance to say goodbye. Of course, she didn't have the energy to speak anymore, but at least she would just  _be_  with someone who loved her rather than someone who didn't love her at all.

Eventually what she had been fearing happened — she breathed out, but not in afterwards. Her mouth couldn't open or close, her mind started to shut down and the fear spreading through her body increased. She would be dead in only a few seconds…

She was willing herself to remain alive for as long as possible. She could no longer feel her clothing, the floor, her skin or anything except her head, which she could numbly feel hurt a lot. She couldn't hear anything except her own painful thoughts. She was lost in a void, floating out of existence. She was losing the energy to even think. She was probably dead already.

She tried as hard as she could to think,  _I'm not going to die, I'm going to live,_   _I'm going to get out of here_ , but it was no use. She couldn't feel her head now — she didn't have a body anymore. She wasn't sure where she was or even who she was. She, whoever she was, had to stay alive. She couldn't remember why, but it seemed important. There was only one thought fixed in what remained of her mind,  _stay alive_.

She felt like she was moving — spinning. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to understand what was happening, but it took too much effort and it made her mind hurt. She was dizzy and wanted to reach out and feel something, but she didn't have a body to do it with. She was trapped somewhere — inside her own body — and she wanted out.

She was spinning, spinning, spinning, and then she was gone. Her skeleton would lie in the Chamber forever.


	19. The Girl Who Lived

She awoke.

She was extremely dizzy and her head hurt very badly. She opened her eyes and saw she was lying on her back, staring up at a magnificent stone ceiling. She was covered in layers of uncomfortable damp cloth and resting on a hard stone floor, freezing and scared. Her eyes were filled with tears. The first question she asked herself was  _Where am I?_  followed shortly by  _Who am I?_  and  _Why am I here?_

Feeling stretched down her arms and legs, eventually filling up her whole body. She loved the way her body felt, particularly her heart — she loved its rhythm. She was hungry and tired — so tired. Her eyelids were heavy and her instincts were telling her to curl up into a tiny ball and go to sleep. She wanted to sleep for a very long time — like maybe three years or so.

A moan escaped her lips as she sat up to look around her. Then she heard quick footsteps — someone was running towards her — another human. She recognized him instantly — he was Harry Potter. Everything came rushing back to her so fast she couldn't take it all in at once. She was Ginny Weasley and she was in the Chamber of Secrets! She liked the name "Ginny" and was glad it was hers. She said it to herself over and over again in her head.  _Ginny, Ginny, Ginny, Ginny._  It sounded so nice.

When Ginny remembered that just before she had fallen unconscious she had been certain she would die, something wonderful hit her — she was  _alive_! She had never felt so happy to hear her heart beating and, for two or three glorious seconds, she was content with simply being alive.

There was a feeling in the air that a great battle had just taken place and Slytherin's monster, a giant snake as she had suspected, was lying dead on the stone floor. Harry was covered in muck as she was, but also blood, though, to her relief, it didn't seem to be his blood. He was holding the Sorting Hat, a sword, and…

_Tom Riddle's diary!_  A hole had been punctured in the diary, leaking ink all over the floor — it had been destroyed.

It took Ginny a very long second to take all this in. She remembered everything — how she had ended up down there and how it was all her fault — and gasped. Her guilty feelings came rushing into her as tears came rushing down her cheeks. She felt broken — like she was a beautiful porcelain vase which had fallen to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Harry," she said without even thinking. "Oh, Harry — I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c- _couldn't_  say it in front of Percy — it was  _me_ , Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over — and —  _how_  did you kill that — that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —"

"It's all right," he assured her, "Riddle's finished. Look! Him  _and_ the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here —" Ginny wanted to throw her arms around Harry and cry into him, but she couldn't move.

"I'm going to be expelled!" she wept as she felt hands —  _Harry's_  hands — help her to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave —  _w-what'll Mum and Dad say?_ "

When his hands left her, Ginny felt so wobbly that she was rather afraid she would fall backwards onto the stone floor and split her head open. It would be so terrible if she died right after her life had just been saved. She wasn't sure she could walk or even stand on her own — her legs didn't seem to be stable anymore and they didn't want to trudge along on their own. She wished Harry would carry her out of the Chamber like the hero of a romantic novel, but she wasn't about to ask him to do that, especially since he had clearly suffered enough in fighting that snake creature.

Ginny was momentarily preoccupied by a strange scarlet bird — she was fairly certain it was a phoenix — hovering near the entrance. If Harry hadn't brought her back to reality by urging her forward, she might have remained standing there staring at it for hours. As they left the Chamber of Secrets, the wall with the snakes shut behind them with a soft hissing sound.

It was closed — forever.

Ginny couldn't believe Harry had risked his life to save  _her_!  _And_  he didn't seem to be hating her even though he knew what she had done. Maybe everything  _was_  going to be all right after all, but she didn't want to get her hopes up too much. But she did know now that she really loved Harry — loved him as much as anyone in her family and she couldn't love anyone more than that. He truly was a hero. She wanted to take him home with her so she could nurse him back to health and feed him chicken soup.

"Ron!" Harry yelled suddenly. "Ginny's okay! I've got her!" Ginny was so lost in her thoughts she had nearly forgotten Harry was even there. She realized this was rather ironic considering how self-conscious she had been around him all year. It was actually a bit creepy too.

Just around the next bend, she saw Ron had made a path back through a pile of rocks in the tunnel. It had evidently collapsed, but Ginny was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to wonder why.

" _Ginny!_ " said Ron, thrusting an arm through the sizable gap to pull her through. Would Ron be so pleased she was alive after he learned she was responsible for what had happened to Hermione?

"You're alive!" he said as she reached the other side. "I don't believe it! What happened?"

Ginny never thought much about it, but she loved Ron. She loved all her brothers so much, even Percy! And she really, really loved her parents too! She wanted them to understand what she had been through and how she felt, but she didn't think words which could describe her emotions existed.

"How — what — where did that bird come from?" Ron asked, referring to the bird Ginny suspected was a phoenix.

"He's Dumbledore's," Harry explained, squeezing through the gap on his own.

"How come you've got a  _sword_?" asked Ron.

"I'll explain when we get out of here," said Harry with a sideways glance at Ginny. She felt a warm feeling rise up in her pounding heart — maybe Harry  _really_  understood how she felt! But she didn't let herself trust that feeling too much. The last time she trusted a feeling like that…

"But —"

"Later," said Harry shortly.

Ginny was relieved. At the moment, she didn't want to hear anything about what had happened. If she heard so much as the word "Riddle", it might have made her feel sick. How could she have ever liked him so much? Thinking of the things she used to say about him made her want to hide somewhere — preferably in Harry's arms.

"Where's Lockhart?" Harry asked Ron. This was probably the very last question Ginny might have expected to hear. Gilderoy Lockhart, with his gaudy clothes, flashy smile, and entourage of screaming fangirls, seemed to belong to a whole different universe than the one which now surrounded them.

"Back there," said Ron, who was still understandably confused. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."

Ginny noted how calm Ron was. Obviously, he didn't know what had really happened and thought everything was all over now that she had been rescued. But Harry did know and he seemed to be confident, so he must be certain that she wasn't going to get in trouble. Of course, there wasn't any way he could have known that, but his poise still gave Ginny some confidence.

They arrived at the mouth of the pipe which led up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. There she saw Gilderoy Lockhart looking barely recognizable. His shiny robes were all grimy and dirty and his blond hair was unkempt. However, his behavior was even more off than his appearance.

"His memory's gone," Ron said quietly. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to wait here. He's a danger to himself."

Ginny suddenly felt guilty again. It was all her fault that Lockhart had lost his memory. Her mother and Hermione had liked him so much and now he was looking blankly up at them with the bliss of complete ignorance. Ginny had thought he was a git, of course, but it was already pretty well-established that she wasn't a very good judge of character.

"Hello," Lockhart pleasantly said to them. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"

"No," said Ron as he raised his eyebrows in Harry's direction.

* * *

Not much later, they were outside Professor McGonagall's office. After Harry pushed the door ajar, there was silence as they just stood there. Ginny listened to her heart continue to beat rapidly until there was a scream which uttered her name.

It was her mother who had been crying by the fire, obviously believing she would never see her daughter again and certainly not alive. Both Ginny's parents seized her and held her very close. She had never felt so loved in her life! She wanted to tell her parents that she loved them too, that she was just as surprised and pleased she was alive as they were, and to say that she was really, really sorry, but she couldn't speak.

"You saved her! You saved her!  _How_  did you do it?" Ginny's mother said as she swept Harry and Ron into her arms as well.

"I think we'd all like to know that," another voice said. It was only then that Ginny noticed there were two other people in the office — Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.

But were they there to see if she was all right or to punish her? By the way her parents were acting, it seemed the former was the case, but they might not fully understand what had happened yet. If they did decide to expel her, it would be terribly convenient to have both her parents and the school's heads present.

But Ginny almost didn't care if she was expelled. Obviously, she didn't want to be, but it didn't seem to matter quite so much. She had realized that her parents would love her no matter what — even if she had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Her parents had told her many times that they would love her always, but it had never meant so much to her before.

After being freed, Harry heisted before walking up to McGonagall's desk, laying the Sorting Hat, the sword, and Riddle's diary down on it. Harry then went on to explain how he, Ron, and Hermione had discovered the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. It turned out they had had quite an adventure fixing the mess Ginny had created. In fact, their story might have even made a great novel.

As he described how Hermione had learned the monster was a basilisk, Ginny turned to look seriously at him — or at least as serious as one  _could_  look with tears pouring down one's face. She felt that there was an understanding between them that, although she could tell he was carefully avoiding it, they would eventually have to explain her part in this. They couldn't postpone it forever, but she was staring to feel confident they could successfully argue her case — she just had to remain calm.

But she  _was_  calm. Even though her head was now resting on her mother's shoulder and she was still crying silently, she didn't feel that scared anymore. Maybe it was simply harder to feel afraid with her parents there and Harry calmly explaining how he and Ron had encountered a colony of giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest. Or maybe it was simply because she was now a world away from the dark underground chamber which she had believed would be her final resting place.

"That's when I put on the Sorting Hat," continued Harry, "and asked it for help. It gave me a sword, which I used to kill the basilisk. One the basilisk's venomous fang got stuck in my shoulder, but Fawkes cried on it — phoenix tears have healing powers — and saved my life. Then I took the fang and, er —" Harry stopped, having reached the point where he would have to explain all about her and the diary. He looked worried and his anxiousness was contagious. Ginny felt panic swell up in her as well, but she still felt certain that, together, they could handle this. She was ready.

However, instead of saying anything, Harry turned to Dumbledore. And just as everything was starting to make sense to her, Dumbledore said something which made no sense at all.

"What interests  _me_  most," he said, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

This must have made sense to Harry because he looked very relieved, but Ginny's parents were clearly just as confused as she was. What did You-Know-Who have to do with all this?

"W-what's that?" asked Ginny's father. " _You-Know-Who?_  En-enchant  _Ginny_? But Ginny's not…Ginny hasn't been…has she?" Ginny was starting to feel awful again, but gained strength in knowing that her parents would always love her. No matter what she'd done.

"It was this diary," said Harry, handing the book to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen…"

As Dumbledore took the diary, Ginny thought of how calm Harry seemed to be. Clearly he could have explained everything for her and it was tempting to just let him. But she couldn't do that. He shouldn't have to explain her part in this. That was something only she could do.

"Brilliant," Dumbledore said softly, staring down at the book. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He then turned to the bewildered Weasleys and finally explained what he and Harry knew that they didn't. "Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

Ginny was numbly shocked. She wished she could have said she was more surprised, but after her encounter with Riddle in the Chamber, it wasn't hard to imagine that he would become You-Know-Who. But it certainly eliminated any good feelings she had left for him and made her feel dirtier than ever. She had consorted with the very person who had left Harry an orphan...

Of course, Dumbledore's explanation didn't do the wonders for Ginny's parents that it did for her.

"But, Ginny," her mother said, pulling Ginny, who felt worse than ever, closer to her. "What's our Ginny got to do with — with —  _him_?" Ginny still felt obligated to explain. After all she had done, it was the very least she could do.

"His d-diary!" she sobbed, inconveniently starting to cry harder than ever. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year —"

" _Ginny!_ " her father said instantly in exactly the shocked, disapproving voice she had been expecting. "Haven't I taught you  _anything_? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself  _if you can't see where it keeps its brain_? Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was  _clearly_ full of Dark Magic —"

Ginny had to keep reminding herself that however angry her parents were with her — and rightfully so, she thought — they still loved her. No matter what, they would  _always_  love her. That seemed to be the only thing in the whole world she felt sure about anymore. But she had to answer them — nobody could, or should, help her out of this.

"I d-didn't know," she sobbed. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it —" This justification had been enough for her back when she first found the diary, but now it seemed hopelessly weak. Had she really been that stupid so recently?

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a strong, clear voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." As she watched Dumbledore open the door for her, Ginny felt cool relief flow through her burning body. If Albus Dumbledore said she wouldn't be punished, she wouldn't be punished.

"Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate," he added. "I always find that cheers me up. You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice — I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione's okay!" Ron said brightly. Ginny was numbly surprised that Ron could be so cheerful after having learned what she had done, but thought little of it.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," Dumbledore said, looking kindly down at her. Ginny was starting to feel a bit over-comforted, but she still appreciated it. But really, she would have been happy if everyone had simply not hated her.

* * *

Ginny had snuggled into one of the warm beds in the hospital wing and now felt a little better. It seemed she had forgotten how comfortable it felt to lay her head on a soft pillow. Her good, long cry had left her feeling much better, but she still had a headache. She was extremely tired, but whenever she closed her eyes frightening images of Riddle in the Chamber filled her mind.

However, she felt much more clear-minded now. Everything was all right — she had nothing to worry about anymore. Hagrid was coming back and, with the points given to Harry and Ron for saving her, Gryffindor would win the House Cup. There was now a feast going on, but she wasn't allowed to attend. She actually liked it better that way, though. It was most unlike her, but at the moment she preferred the dark and silence to the noise and excitement of a party.

"Is she going to be all right?" Ginny heard her mother ask, sounding very worried. Ginny's parents, who believed she was asleep, were talking to Madam Pomfrey.

"I don't know," Madam Pomfrey answered grimly. "Physically she's all right, but mentally…"

These words certainly didn't make Ginny feel any better, but they were reinforced by how everyone had been acting around her since she had left McGonagall's office. When she had stepped ungracefully into the infirmary, the first thing she had heard was the shrill voice of a newly unpetrified Hermione say "Oh, what  _happened_  to you?" as though she had entered the room with her arms chopped off. At least she knew Colin didn't hate her. He had started to eagerly tell her what he'd seen before he was Petrified, but her parents and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let him talk about that in front of her.

"I can't say if she'll ever be the same again," Madam Pomfrey continued bleakly. "I mean, the poor girl's been through enough." Awkward silence followed.

"I never thought this — anything like th-this would ever happen," Ginny's mother sobbed suddenly. "You hear about things l-like this happening all the time, but I — I never thought it would happen to my little girl. And when she's just eleven!"

"What exactly did she go through?" Ginny heard her father ask quietly.

"I don't know any more than you do," admitted Madam Pomfrey. "The only way to find out any more would be to ask her and I don't think that would be wise. I imagine it would only upset the poor thing."

Ginny closed her eyes. Though it did indeed seem counterintuitive, she actually  _would_  have liked to talk to someone about what had happened to her. With her eyes closed, horrible images from the Chamber were again flooding her mind. She didn't want to keep all those images bottled up inside of her — she wanted to let them out, but didn't know how. She needed to share them with someone who would understand her — someone like the person Tom Riddle had pretended to be. But as she had laid there, she had already vowed to herself that she would never again give her full trust to another person or object. She would not let  _anyone_  as far into her heart as she had let Riddle. Not even someone like Harry.

"D'you think we should take her home for a few days?" Ginny's mother asked. "You know, so she can calm down a bit. It's only a little while until the end of the year anyway." Ginny didn't want to go home — in fact, she wished she could do the whole year over again without that stupid diary.

"I don't know, Molly," Ginny's father answered. "We can ask her what she wants when she wakes up."

Ginny wanted to say "you can ask me now" — partly so she could hear their reaction to finding out she had been listening in — but her mouth didn't want to open. In fact, she felt so tired she didn't think she would have been able to lift her head or even open her eyelids. She continued listening to her parents talk about what to do with her and eventually faded off into dreamless sleep…

* * *

The next morning, Ginny was lying on her bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. Though she was wide awake and fully dressed, she still felt tired. She lay almost perfectly still, staring at the ceiling — thinking. When she had entered the Gryffindor common room, the sounds of people cheering and crying with joy filled her ears. People she didn't even know told her they felt sorry for her — it was a bit overwhelming. In fact, she had learned that the school governors had sent Dumbledore back when they had heard that she had been taken into the Chamber, so even they cared about her, if only for her father's sake.

The end of year exams had been canceled and Lockhart was now a resident of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As for Lucius Malfoy, it seemed probable that he had given Ginny the diary in the first place.

Ginny did feel happy, and a bit flattered, but she felt depressed at the same time. She would, of course, never allow what had happened to her to happen to her ever again, but it had happened to her so easily. She had even  _seen_  Lucius Malfoy take her Transfiguration book and then give it back to her. When she first saw the diary, shouldn't it have been  _obvious_  where it came from? How could she have not wondered even once where the diary really came from, especially after she realized what it was doing to her?

And what had happened to Ginny could still happen to someone else. Ginny really, really didn't want it to, though — no one deserved to go through what she had. Could she help protect others like her by letting her story be heard? No, she herself had heard Dzhinni Uizli's story and that hadn't stopped  _her_. And since it had been revealed that Lockhart had stolen his accomplishments from real people, poor Dzhinni probably really existed. What if she had felt, just like Ginny did now, that her story could save someone like her?

"Hello there," said a disdainful voice. It was Fleeta Fleece.

"Go away," Ginny said without taking her eyes off the ceiling — she wasn't in the mood.

"So… did you enjoy your little adventure?" asked Fleeta as though Ginny had just returned from a dull shopping trip to buy boring things.

"You do realize I nearly died," Ginny told her coolly. "Weren't you at all worried about me?"

"Why would I be worried about  _you_?" asked Fleeta snootily. "First you steal Lockhart from me — not that I wanted him or anything — and  _then_  you get yourself taken into the Chamber of Secrets! Now everyone feels  _so_  sorry for you — I bet you're just loving all the attention."

Anger pounded in Ginny's ears. After all the pain and hurt she had been through, Fleeta had the audacity to suggest that Ginny had actually  _wanted_  it! How could she even  _think_  such a thing? Ginny forced herself upwards into a sitting position so she could look at Fleeta properly. Fleeta's slate-colored eyes were colder than ever — it appeared she had progressed to actually loathing Ginny. But Ginny didn't feel angry anymore. After looking into the face of real evil down in the Chamber, Fleeta's pouty little face seemed petty and insignificant. Ginny would not dignify it with a response.

"Goodbye, Fleeta," she said, laying back down on her bed. Fleeta stalked out of the room.

Ginny went back to thinking. There was a lot of thinking to be done. She thought about when she'd been in the Chamber — she had been cold and scared. She had been crying as a voice that belonged to someone who said he loved her told her that she would die and that her death wouldn't even matter to him. It was easily the worst moment of her entire life. If only she had asked Hermione who Tom Riddle was — she would have probably known. The fact that Riddle was You-Know-Who should be well-known. Why was it kept so quiet?

And speaking of Hermione…

"Hi, Ginny. I thought I might find you here. What're you doing?"

"Thinking," she said tersely.

"What're you thinking about?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing," Ginny lied. "Could you leave me alone?" There was a long pause.

"Sure," Hermione said eventually, before turning to leave the room.

"Wait," Ginny said, sitting up, "I changed my mind — could you stay?"

"Sure," Hermione said, sounding, though a bit confused, very friendly. She sat down and waited for Ginny to start speaking, but Ginny didn't feel like talking. She still had a terrible headache.

"Please tell me what you're feeling," said Hermione in a very small voice.

"Happy, sad, angry, scared, guilty, tired," Ginny answered listlessly, not looking at Hermione. "You name it, I feel it." Hermione looked at her for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she said in an even smaller voice. Ginny closed her suddenly tear-filled eyes. This was so hard.

"Her— Hermione," she stuttered. "There — there's something I want — I  _need_  to talk to you about." And with that, Ginny went on to tell Hermione about almost everything (she left out a few embarrassing details) that had happened to her since she had found the diary, bringing herself to silent tears, but causing herself to feel a great sense of relief. Hermione, being Hermione, managed to put a spin on the events which Ginny hadn't thought of.

"I mean everyone is better off now, aren't they?" she pointed out. "The monster's dead, the diary's been destroyed, nobody got killed, and Lucius Malfoy's been sacked. So everything is actually  _better_  than it was before, isn't it?"

"But it might not have turned out so nice," said Ginny. "Someone could've died or — or worse. And towards the end, I knew what I was doing. I t-tried to deny it, but I really did know. And I couldn't stop myself. I t-tried to, but I couldn't. I f-failed everyone."

"Ginny, you're only eleven," said Hermione quietly.

"Oh, and how old are  _you_?" Ginny replied, probably more curtly than was necessary. "Twelve?"

"Thirteen, actually," said Hermione. "My birthday's in September. But that's not the point. It's really incredible that you were able to resist Riddle  _at all_  — much less all on your own. What you really should have done was told someone and I can appreciate how terrifying that must have seemed from your point of view. You didn't mean to hurt anyone and no one was permanently harmed anyway."

"Well, Professor Lockhart lost his memory," Ginny pointed out, "but I think he's better off that way." Hermione bit her lip. Did she  _still_  like Lockhart?

"Hermione," Ginny said gently, hoping she sounded understanding, "I know you liked Lockhart, but just face it — he  _was_  git. He erased other people's memories and then took credit for what they did. In fact, if you think about it, it's kind of appropriate for him to end up like this, isn't it?" Hermione continued looking at her.

"I suppose," she said eventually, "we were both fooled by someone who wasn't what he appeared to be." Ginny suddenly felt a strong bond with Hermione she had never felt before. And now Hermione was looking as sad as she felt.

"Hey, it's okay," Ginny told her. "I feel stupid too."

Hermione looked up at her with a weak smile. Ginny smiled back, feeling secure in the knowledge that she would no longer be alone in the world. From that moment on, Hermione would be her friend.

* * *

Almost everyone in the school was unaware that Ginny had experienced anything more than being taken into the Chamber of Secrets and she did nothing to correct that impression. For awhile, people asked her all about her experience in the Chamber, but somehow she knew just how to handle it; she would answer their questions tersely and politely, and, if asked anything that would force her to mention Riddle or the diary, she would calmly say that she didn't feel like talking about that. No one dared to press her after she said that.

However, their curiosity was fleeting and when people began to lose interest in her it was a huge relief. But even when they had been interested, she still hadn't felt that bad. Of course, it was really at night when the terror struck. She was haunted by vivid nightmares about her time in the Chamber and every single night she couldn't help but go to bed thinking,  _If I had died in the Chamber of Secrets, this day would never have happened. Everything that I did today, I would have died having never done._

There was a silver lining though. She could now talk in front of Harry. She still hadn't managed to have a real conversation with him, but whenever she saw him in the corridors, she said "Hi, Harry." She wasn't sure how she had so suddenly gained this power, but suspected, in years to come, that it was because she no longer cared so much about what he thought of her. And they came rather close to having a conversation when they were homebound on the Hogwarts Express.

"Ginny," he said, "what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"

"Oh, that," she said and, when she remembered how Penelope Clearwater had been clinging onto Percy, she began to giggle. Now that all her problems were, for the most part, resolved, everything suddenly seemed a whole lot funnier. Ginny couldn't resist — she preceded to spill the beans on Percy. It would be one less secret she had to keep. And besides, it was fun.

"I walked in on them  _kissing_  in an empty classroom one day," she explained. "He was so upset when she was —" (Ginny's heart skipped a beat) "— you know — attacked. You won't tease him, will you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," answered Fred, grinning mischievously.

"Definitely not," added George.

Ginny forced herself to smile anyway. At least she would go home feeling certain that Harry did indeed like her, if only as his best friend's little sister. It was better than nothing.

* * *

Ginny took a broomstick from her brothers' broom shed and turned to head up towards the paddock, feeling very aware of her racing heart. She was home again and she was miserable. She didn't want to be home. She had wasted her full first year at Hogwarts and desperately wished she could do it all over again. Why didn't she ever get the nerve to tell anyone about the diary? How could she have just sat by and let attacks against Muggle-borns go on for a whole year? And she had nearly died as a result of it all. How could she have been so stupid?

Once she reached the paddock, she looked around. Everything felt so different. She had changed so much, but the paddock, the Burrow, and the rest of her family seemingly hadn't changed it all. In fact, as she looked around, she thought everything still looked, more or less, as it had on a fateful day nearly six years ago.

Ginny stood still and closed her eyes, feeling countless emotions surge through her. So much had changed since the last time she had stood on that spot — she was a different girl now — an older and sadder one. Everything was different, but somehow exactly the same at the same time. It felt so strange. She thought about how happy and innocent she had been the last time she had stood on that spot. She knew she could never be that happy or innocent ever again.

Holding back a river of tears, Ginny opened her eyes again and climbed onto the broom. She took a deep breath and kicked off the ground. The wind flew through her fiery hair and against her face as she flew up into the sky.

She was getting up after her accident.


End file.
